


Ghosts That We Knew

by jdmcool



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock's death, John just wanted to move on and forget about silly adventures and strange men. But between dreams that feel like some long forgotten memory and the fact that he's fairly certain that he's being watched, John can't help but feel he's in for another dangerous adventure and he really doesn't like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what the what I'm doing. At all. But uh... when I know, you'll know and also: working off Peter Jackson's movies more than the books for the Middle Earth bits and using gratuitous book references for the Sherlock bits to make life easier for all.

“Would you care to start?”

Shifting in his seat, John tilted his head slightly, brows knit together as he pondered over that question as though it was a life or death matter. The answer was damn near implicit what with him sitting across from her yet again and yet, the words just wouldn’t come. Grabbing the cup at his side, he took a sip of the water, cleared his throat noisily as she watched him, waiting for him to start.

Placing the cup back at his side, he took a deep breath before shaking his head. It wasn’t a no and he trusted her to understand that; he simply didn’t know how it was he was meant to start the start the session. Never did really. The urge to say that he was feeling especially insane a heavy weight in the back of his throat.

Sighing as he rubbed at his eyes, he instead said, “I don’t know. I’m tired.”

Leaning back in her seat, hands resting on her knee, Ella asked, “Any particular reason for that?”

“Yeah. Been having dreams,” he said offhandedly, only to jerk upright and wave his hand rather furiously when he caught the look of concern on her face. After how many times he mentioned his dreams, it was a fair thing to worry about most days. “Not bad dreams. Not… Not about Afghanistan.”

“What about—“

“Or him,” John said, cutting her off before she could say it. Looking out the window at the rather average day, he took a deep breath, letting it out softly. “They’re… They’re not… flashbacks or anything like that. It’s like a fantasy game. Something made up.”

“Alright,” she said, writing down something about he was tense about the subject of Sherlock, but seemed to be maintaining his progress on the topic of his time in the army. Looking back up at him with that kind visage of interest, she continued, asking, “And what happens in these dreams?”

Shrugging, he squinted as he tried to remember one worth telling. “Different things. It varies, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, I’m always the same… me. But not me. I’m too short,” he said with a faint chuckle, since he already knew what some thought of his stature. He’d never been particularly tall, but in his dreams, he seemed to be especially diminutive, practically a dwarf. Except they were taller.

Noticing that Ella was waiting for him to continue on with his explanation, he tapped his foot on the ground as he continued on, saying, “And the clothes are odd, everything is. I live in some hole in the ground.”

“It’s run down?”

“No. It’s a literal hole in the ground. Not a rabbit hole; it's fairly well done. Wouldn’t mind living in that particular hole, wood floors, nice garden, fireplace. Great pantry, I gotta say. Just nothing but food in there. Far more than one man could ever need to eat,” he said, lips quirking up with pride at that for some reason. The moment he noticed the similar smile on Ella’s lips, his fell and he dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap. “But sometimes I’m not there. I’m running through forests or sleeping on mountains. In the company of others, who seem quite a bit better suited for such things than me. Even in my dreams I often feel out of place. I miss home, but… They try to make me feel better and sometimes, they do.”

Pausing to take in everything John said, she pursed her lips as she thought on it. “So in these dreams, you’ve a home and the… thrill you seem to seek in life, but share both with friends?”

“No. Not the home. They… I had a dream of them once and I swear I woke in a panic. Half expected to find my own kitchen in disarray, mud tracks everywhere.”

“But you have someone there for you, like you did with Sherlock?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Even though she meant well, the comparison hit him like a ton of bricks for some reason that felt like it should’ve been more than the simple fact that he was still mourning his friend. It had only been a few months since he had died, but the ache that filled in every corner of his heart felt older, heavier somehow. Sherlock’s death was a sharp pain that left him gasping through tears on the nights he was unfortunate enough to dream of his body on the ground, nothing more than a bloodied corpse while his words still echoed in John’s ears.

One was shot of whiskey that burned his throat as part of its horrible charm and the other was a fine wine, age to perfection, that filled him with a strange and unpleasant heat.

“Have you been having these dreams for a while?”

“I suppose. I mean, I had them on occasion even before…” Trailing off, he tried to keep himself from delving down that particular path. “But now… I have them a lot more and… I mean, it’s better than most of my dreams, but it’s still a bit weird. I have this entire little dream life where… I’m someone else.”

Making another note, John didn’t bother to read because he knew it couldn’t possibly be good, Ella nodded quietly. “And how do you feel about these dreams? This alternate life of yours?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes, most nights, it’s miserable and I’m miserable and I kind of hate it. I’ve had dreams where people… They die. They die fighting and they kill and there are battles of all sorts, but… Then there are nice dreams, where people virtually come back from the dead and I get… I’m wanted there. Even needed and it’s nice.”

Seeing Ella begin to write again, he didn’t have to read it to know that it was likely about his dreams expressing his feelings to be needed again in relation to a friendship rather than a job. That he, on some level, believed that he wanted to be needed by one particular person whom he could care for in return. That for all his outward signs of moving on, not that there were many, his mind seemed to be not only lingering around the thoughts, but also creating a magical world in which anything could happen because where there was magic, people couldn’t get hurt. Not forever.

Of course, she didn’t know that the idea of magic and tricks left a bad taste in his mouth as he stomach tightened. That none of the people in his dreams really depended on him, not really. He knew from a particularly awful dream that they’d have left without him, carried on without a care and it hurt. Didn’t know that the blue eyed man that haunted his dreams was often cruel and uncaring towards him with nothing John could do to change it.

And, perhaps the surest sign that therapy wasn’t for him, John had no intention of telling her that. Instead, he just watched her carefully as she thought over what it was she wanted to tell him, pen tapping against her paper softly as she did.

“How have you been spending your time as of late? Have you seen any of your old friends?”

Thinking back, John easily comes up with the nice and tidy list of people he’s seen and the circumstances surrounding it. He’s seen his sister more than a few times, Mrs. Hudson nearly every day, although that mostly had to do with the fact that he rarely left 221B if he could help it. There was a good list of people he hadn’t seen since Sherlock’s funeral: Molly, Lestrade, even Mike. Yet, there was just something about each of them he didn’t feel ready to deal with just yet.

So he reluctantly shook his head and attempted to prevent whatever it was Ella would ask by saying, “I don’t want to see them. I don’t want people to keep telling me that it’ll fine or that Sherlock would hate to see me like this because… I don’t want to hear that. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Some fade away, some scar and some can kill you. I don’t… I don’t think this’ll be the death of me, but it feels that way most days and they don’t help make it better.”

“Do the dreams?”

Faltering for a moment, John nodded. “Yeah. Most nights I can go to sleep easy and when I can’t, I have pills for that now.”

“Then why do you look so tired?”

It was an innocent question, but for John it conjured memories of monsters and riddles and the sickly feeling that he was going to die. Alone and in the dark without a soul in the world to care because even the men in his dreams didn’t always like him. A gentler night terror after he had woken with a cry of Sherlock’s name on his tongue.

Clenching his jaw, John shook his head as he tried to blinking back the memory of the previous night. “Bad dreams last night. That’s all.”

“John, I understand that you’re attempting to cope, but certainly you must realize that shutting out those that care for you won’t help. Your friends care about you and want to see you through this. Awful platitudes aside, is that really such a terrible thing?”

Eyes still trained on the ground, John shook his head. “No. It’s… Nice of them, actually, to care.”

“So why keep pushing them away?” She asked with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. He knew they didn’t think that Sherlock was a fake like so many others did, so why he felt the need to keep them, of all people at arms’ length didn’t make sense. Not with someone to poke holes in his reasoning. “Maybe I’m just a bit nervous about it.”

“Those nerves aren’t going to go away if you keep putting it off.”

“I know.”

“And most importantly,” she said, waiting for him to look up at her before continuing on. “You can’t allow yourself to become attached to some fantasy life. Everything may be better in your dreams, but they’re just that: dreams. If you let those and your grief take over your life, you’re just going to drive yourself mad.”

“Yeah. I know. It just…” Frowning as he tapped his thumb against his thigh, he shrugged. “I guess I’m just nervous about that too.”

“No one is rushing you, John, but perhaps as a goal for yourself, you can call up one of your old friends and maybe go out? Just go to a pub? Things can’t be that bad. Not when hearing and saying Sherlock’s name seems to bother you less already.”

Thinking back over the session, John nodded. Despite his initial hesitance, things were starting to feel a bit better in that regard. Papers that mentioned him didn’t leave him feeling furious like he used to be. To keep avoiding everyone was just him being odd, he knew that much.

“You’re right, I think  I should start… stop shutting myself away.”

“Good,” she said, looking a bit relieved that it had actually been that simple.

Hearing the soft knock on the door, he immediately rose from his seat, knowing that it meant her next client was there. Putting on his jacket, he said his goodbyes and promised that he would call to make another appointment, maybe even come up with a regular schedule. It was all a lie since Ella knew that the moment he felt better, he’d stop showing up, something she said would only lead him to coming back every time he slipped, but John didn’t intend to slip again. How could he with Sherlock gone? And it was all too easy to make his way out of the well-lit office, his hand hesitating on the doorknob as he made his way out.

Not that Ella was likely to miss that. Straightening the papers on her notepad, she gave him an odd look as she asked, “Is there something else you’d like to mention, John?”

“No. Just trying to remember if I bought milk. I mean, I do… Buy milk, that is, but I just… forget,” he said.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, she told him, “Don’t worry. You won’t ever truly forget him, I promise.”

“Yeah,” he said as he made a hasty retreat. “Thanks.”

The entire ride home, he thought about what Ella had said about making small goals, about calling someone up to go to the pub or something like that. Something that got him out of that flat and out of his bed since he felt mentioning that he spent most of his day trying to sleep would only make her worry about him and he wasn’t going mad. He wasn’t. He knew that sleeping was a game of chances where he could just as easily wind up dreaming of nothing as he could that faraway land or Sherlock. John was just all too willing to take such a chance for a night’s happiness. After all, it wasn’t as though there was much else for him to do.

Still, he dutifully flicked through the contacts on his mobile before deciding that Lestrade might be the best choice and texting him. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb the man at work or if he was busy. It had nothing to do with the fact that John didn’t want to talk to the other because that might make it all the more real and somehow harder to back out at the last minute.

But that wasn’t what he was going to do, he told himself repeatedly as the taxi pulled up to 221B. Getting out, he was almost certain that he would do it, meet up with Greg and just enjoy the company of another. It wasn’t until he was caught sight of the familiar set of blue eyes watching him from Speedy’s did he remember why it was he had taken to staying inside in the first place.

He wasn’t certain how long it had been going on exactly, but it had been over a month since John had noticed the odd man watching him. He was always as around, that far too stern face fixed on him as though he was waiting for some chance to strike. When John moved toward the front door of Speedy’s, the man got up quickly, disappearing somewhere out of sight. And while he could’ve gone in and found him, John didn’t. He had tried that more than once and it never seemed to work, the other man always disappearing into shadows somehow.

The whole ordeal made John feel all the more angry with himself for not bringing it up with Ella. Even if she would’ve simply told him to tell the police, a lot of good they would’ve done, it might have been nice to tell someone. But, as it was too late for that, John took a shaky breath before disappearing into his own home, back pressed to the door the moment he had it shut.

Someone was watching him, that much he knew. Something had to be done about it too since he couldn’t live in hiding forever. Not when the man who seemed to lurk around every corner of his life used to simply be the king that kept a leery eye on him in his dreams. John simply refused to be tormented when he was awake and asleep. Not again.


	2. Chapter 2

Standing around outside on a day when most seemed only too eager to get inside, John knew how he must’ve looked. He was practically shaking as he shifted from foot to foot, eyes either focused on the door in front of him and the phone in his hand. He was supposed to be meeting Lestrade for drinks, something simple to start him on adjusting to life without Sherlock. It was probably the easiest thing he could’ve done since he and Greg were mates beyond their mutual friend. The entire evening was supposed to be nice and happy and yet as he looked back at the door, somehow ominous and terrifying, he knew that happy and nice weren’t the sort of words he’d be applying to his day.

With a small shake of his head, he started to leave the door behind him only to find his fingers closing a bit tighter around his mobile. Coming to a stop, John blinked a few times as he wondered when he had become so cowardly. He was meant to be a soldier that could manage just about anything from war to death and yet as soon as someone bumped into him, he was all but jumping out of his skin, heart hammering in his throat in fear. Of course, as he looked around, taking note of the fact that the person to bump into him was some smartly dressed woman, his mind was quick to supply the when and why behind his cowardice.

Holding up his mobile to search through his contacts for Greg’s number, he called the man, shuddering breaths wracking his body as it rang. He wasn’t sure if it was better that it eventually went to voicemail or not, but the moment the machine asked for him to leave a message John sighed.

“Uh… Greg, it’s me, John. Just wanted to say… I can’t make it tonight. I’m sorry, but things came up and… That’s a shite excuse coming from me, but I mean it. So I’ll you back to reschedule or you can call me.” Pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment, he hesitated for a moment before pressing it back to his ear and adding, “In fact, you should call me or else I’ll never do what I said. Bye.”

Hanging up, he let out a relieved breath before standing up a bit straighter. Turning on his heel, he made his way up to the door and didn’t even hesitate before walking in. It had been awhile since he had found himself inside the all too quiet office halls, but his feet seemed to remember just which turns to take to lead him to an all too familiar desk.

Standing in front of it, John looked at the woman before him with a grim determination.

“May I help you?”

“Where’s Mycroft, Anthea?”

Looking up from her phone, she gave him a curious look. Probably didn’t remember him for all that she seemed to forget him in the past. Certainly after so long without seeing him he had to appear to be just another raving mad man who wanted more than he deserved. But, placing the phone on her desk before folding her hands in her lap.

“He should be returning from a meeting in about fifteen minutes. I don’t recall him expecting you though,” she said, narrowing her eyes questioningly.

Nervously tugging at his tie, John gave a small shrug. “Didn’t make an appointment. That going to be a problem?”

“Not for me.” Picking up her phone again, she started clicking away at it once again, all but forgetting that he existed aside from one comment, “You may wait in his office if you want. I’ll notify him to your arrival.”

“Thank you,” he said, flashing a smile he was certain she didn’t see.

Walking in to the office, John eyed everything in sight, searching for some sort of change in décor. Some sort of proof that Mycroft actually did care about Sherlock and what happened. Given the neatly organized manner to which he kept everything, it was no real surprise that he found none.  The only interesting part was that he still cared about whether or not Mycroft had truly meant that utterly crap apology John had never delivered for him.

Rubbing at his eyes, he blinked away the familiar sense of tiredness he felt.  Fifteen minutes or so until the man showed up, if Anthea could be trusted to have remembered correctly. Sitting down in the chair across from Mycroft’s desk, John rested his head in his hands miserably. He blew off Greg to unexpectedly show up at Mycroft’s office, who’d be back eventually according to a woman who didn’t give out her own name or seem to remember his.

“I should’ve just gone to the pub,” John muttered to himself.

But the idea that he was being watched made him uneasy, never knowing when and where the man would pop up, if he ever truly disappeared in the first place. It was creepy and the fact that he hadn’t been able to tell anyone was driving him mad. Wanting to move on with his life wasn’t a bad thing, after all. There was no reason for him to be tracked like some animal.

Checking his watch for the time, John wasn’t sure if he believed that Anthea had just been off in her timing or if Mycroft had discreetly left without anyone notifying him of such a fact. He had sworn that he would only wait a few more minutes about four times and was about to leave when his phone went off when the door opened.

“It is a rather unfortunate situation and yet…” Coming to an immediate stop, both in speech and actions, Mycroft managed to look sorely put out by John standing next to his chair. And he seemed as though he may have had every right to be given the curious look that the man next to him was giving John.

John had never really considered that Mycroft might be busy with more than a simple meeting despite the teasing the man used to receive from Sherlock about practically being the British Government. The thought that he worked with people like the perturbed looking man next to him was a strange one, especially when it seemed so obvious in hindsight.

Turning to his companion, Mycroft pressed his lips together. “El—“

“We’ll continue this conversation another time. Of course,” the man agreed readily. Cocking his head to the side slightly as he continued to stare at John, his brows drew together slightly before he relaxed and nodded politely at him. “Mr Watson.”

“Uh… Yeah,” John said as he nodded back at the man, too put off by the fact that the man seemed to know his name to do much else.

Ushering the mysterious man out of the room, Mycroft closed the door behind him before making his way over to his desk. As usual, he didn’t sit, merely gestured for John to take his seat. And while the temptation to ignore the gesture was there, John knew it was also childish to keep standing just to prove that he didn’t have to listen.

“How did he know my name?” John asked as he took his seat.

Looking up from a file that lay open on his desk, Mycroft seemed momentarily lost before his eyes caught sight of the closed door. “Honestly John, a number of people know your name. Sherlock’s death didn’t erase the notoriety you seemed to have gained beforehand.”

A true enough fact, even if those days seemed like ages ago. Where his name was once synonymous with confirmed bachelor and Sherlock Holmes’ friend, it now seemed to mean little to nothing to the public that had once adored his friend.

“Yeah, well, it’s weird when someone knows your name and you don’t know theirs,” he said lamely.

“El does tend to forget such pleasantries,” Mycroft said with a faint laugh to his voice.

Furrowing his brows, John nodded solemnly. “So his name is—“

“Elliot. Although I’m certain you didn't come around to ask the names of future ambassadors,” he said, fingers laced in front of him as he watched John patiently. “After all, I haven’t seen you since before Sherlock’s rather unfortunate demise.”

Smirking, John let a flicker of pain cross his features, poised to mention just why it was they stopped speaking before Sherlock died. Looking up at Mycroft, he was tempted to tear into him all over again, reopen wounds for the civil servant that never really healed for him, but seeing how Mycroft stared through him, lost in some terrible memory of his own, John let it go.

“Are you having me watched?” He asked, deciding to cut straight to the point of things before he lost his nerve again. Waving his hand the moment Mycroft opened his mouth to say something, he said, “Stupid question. Why would you admit to having me watched?”

“I’m merely curious as to what brought this question about?”

“Look, I know a lot of people are worried that I’m going to lose my mind or something like that, but I’m fine. I swear it. There’s no need to watch over me, especially when it’s likely just out of some misplaced sense of guilt.”

“I can assure you, John, I have no such feelings in your regard.”

The words came like a punch to the gut, causing John to stare at the other man in shock as he wondered if he hadn’t made a grave mistake even bothering to talk to him about it. Making to leave, he was even more shocked by the hand on his shoulder stopping him.

A veil of old pains left Mycroft looking strangely guarded rather than like his usual, ambivalent self. Blinking it back as best he could, he told John. “Yes, I… failed at such things in the past, but it’s best to learn from one’s mistakes, not dwell on them.”

“Is that what I am? A small part of some larger mistake?” He asked defensively.

Taking a deep breath, Mycroft let his hand fall from John’s shoulder.

Annoyed by the quiet act the other man seemed to fall into as Mycroft rounded his desk to sit in his own chair, John stayed on his feet, glaring at him. “Look, I’m not asking for you to care, I just want you to stop with the detail. Stop having me followed.”

“What does this person look like?” Mycroft questioned after a long silence.

“He’s… He’s tall. About your height, but he has dark hair and uh… blue eyes.”

At the very least his description of the man seemed to catch Mycroft’s interest, his head slowly rising to stare back at him. Lips pressed into a thin line, he seemed a bit lost. “John…”

“No. I know how it sounds,” he said, cutting the other off. “I already… I know I’m not hallucinating him. This guy, he’s real. I know because I’ve seen him and he’s not… built like Sherlock. There’s more muscle to him and he runs whenever I try to follow him. Just disappears.”

“John.”

“No. Not disappears, but he’s good at getting away. I mean, I’m not mental, alright? His jaw is too square and… Maybe sometimes I see him and I think it’s Sherlock, but Sherlock never had a five o’clock shadow by three or dressed the way this guy does sometimes. His hair is too short and his eyes are too blue and he’s too…” Pausing, John swallowed nervously to clear the odd sense of tightness in his throat as he tried to find new words.

Jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder once again, John stared up at Mycroft with wide eyes as the man told him, “John. I need you to ask yourself a question.”

“What?” He asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Why would I have you followed when I control the CCTV?”

John frowned as he tried to think of a reason, any sort of plausible excuse for why Mycroft would start using people now when John already couldn’t avoid the cameras. They were bloody well everywhere and he knew that. If Mycroft wanted information on him, he’d have it for the most part. And yet, that entire idea only made him feel worse because of the implications it carried with it.

“You’re not behind this. He’s… Whoever he is, he’s not one of your guys, is he?” He questioned, even if he already had his suspicions about the answer.

Moving back to his seat, Mycroft pushed it in before closing a few choice files on his desk. “If it would help you, I can put someone on watch for this man you’ve described. Make sure you stay safe from anything untoward.”

Nodding, John rubbed at the back of his neck, still hung up on the idea that whoever was following him was just some nutter, not one of Mycroft’s men. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. I’d hate for something to happen to you as well.”

“Yeah. Of course not.”

“John, I’m certain by the end of tomorrow I will have a wealth of information on this fellow and when I do, I will notify you right away. Everything I know, you’ll know. I promise you,” Mycroft said.

He even seemed like he meant it, which meant a lot to John. It really did. He simply couldn’t stop his mind from racing about what it was he had done to warrant such attention when Sherlock was dead. Sherlock was the one who did all the real case solving. If someone wanted revenge, they were simply out of luck because John was just an ordinary man who wrote down the adventures of his friend. He wasn’t really involved.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather sit down?” Mycroft asked, gesturing to the chair again. When John gave him a questioning look, obviously at a loss for what was going on, he added, “You look as though you might be ill or pass out.”

“No,” John said, shaking his head rapidly. Taking a deep breath, he wiped at his mouth as he exhaled. “Uh… Right. Um… Thank you for everything. I’m just going to be heading out now, I suppose.”

“Wait,” Mycroft said, actually resting a hand on John’s shoulder. If he felt the jitters coursing through the soldier’s body, he didn’t say anything about it. Rather he looked at him with concern and said, “John, how long has this been going on?”

Wracking his brain, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a month or two after Sherlock’s death? Or, at least that’s when I noticed it. Could’ve been longer.”

“Alright. You should go home and relax.”

Nodding once again because it was a simple and mechanical movement, John muttered his agreement as best he could. His nerves were suddenly alight with a cautious fear since his stalker wasn’t just Mycroft’s attempts at… whatever it was that ever connected them beyond Sherlock. Making his way to the door, he opened it, startling slightly when he nearly ran into someone.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” John said as he rushed out, only wanting to be back in the comfort of his home for the rest of time if he could manage it.

* * *

Mycroft watched the entire ordeal with a small frown, wishing he could do more for John as he rushed off. Of course, with someone in his office, he couldn’t even stick to what he had promised the other at the moment.

“You look bothered, Mycroft.”

“There’s a man watching John. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes.”

“He wouldn’t—“

“No,” Mycroft said, waving off the idea that had briefly plague him as well. “He’s out of the country. I rather fear it may be the other part of this equation.”

“Thorin. I suppose it was only a matter of time,” he said with a small roll of his eyes.

Nodding in agreement, Mycroft turned toward his friend, concern filling his eyes. “This is between us though, El. No one else can know.”

“I do not relish keeping secrets, Mycroft.”   

“You owe me.”

“It is not me who owes you and you know that. Now if you—“

“Elrond, swear that this stays between the two of us for now.”

Wavering, it seemed as though the elf might actually tell him no. That he might claim that such matters weren’t meant to be hidden away. But the moment passed and Elrond nodded readily enough. “This rests on your shoulders though.”

“I can live with that.”

At least until he figured out just how it was he wanted things to go in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took forever. Bit rubbish. Will be more, better work once I settle into this semester.

London at the break of dawn was something John was starting to consider a rather boring thing. While most would look on at the rising sun with a certain amount of happiness and wonder, he couldn’t see it as anything more than a very late start for the sun given that he’d been up for a good three hours already, wandering the streets quietly because walking made him feel like just maybe he could escape the thoughts in his head.

Thoughts of Sherlock, falling far too fast from far too high up, arms flailing as though he had only realized what a horrible mistake he had made after he had done it. Then there came the sickening thud of a man’s body hitting the pavement John was nearly certain he hadn’t actually heard. Blood everywhere as Sherlock simply laid there, like some mad humpty dumpty that really couldn’t be fixed, despite all John’s experience as a doctor. It was those kind of nightmares that drove him out of the flat, which felt far too small in the aftermath of his own dreams.

But as he made his way up the street, John was certain that more walking wasn’t going to help him do anything more than tire himself out again and with the sun slowly making its way into the sky, he felt it only right for him to go back home and make himself breakfast.. Settle into  his daily routine early as there were suddenly people and cars on the street that he was certain hadn’t been there when he slipped out into the still dark night.

He was already mentally going through just what it was he was going to have when a axi caught his eye. It wasn’t anything special, but seeing some dark hair figure slip out of it caused him to pause, a moment of sickness when he realized that it couldn’t be Sherlock and then dread when he realized he knew the person anyways.

It had been three weeks since he had seen his unpleasant stalker lurking around the edges of his life and while John had never received any word from Mycroft, he had believed that perhaps the man had handled it anyways. That he had made the strange man disappear and simply didn’t think it wise to tell John such a fact. That he would notice it on his own. Obviously, it had been too much of a fantasy to ever be true.

Ducking behind a parked car, John watched as the guy pulled out a large bag from the trunk before waving at the cabbie, who wasted little time driving off. The man clearly hadn’t seen John, slipping into the flat across from 221B as though he belonged there when the place had scarcely seen any life after that bombing. Not that most would question a man with a bit of luggage slipping into an empty house.

Standing up straight, John looked around at the handful of people going about their day quietly before following after the guy. It was perhaps the most foolish thing he could’ve done, but for once he had the upper hand on the guy and he wasn’t going to let that go. Not to mention that he was a soldier and he was meant to know how to take care of himself in a pinch. And if he felt any nerves about his decision, well, it was simply proof that he wasn’t completely mad after all.

Going up to the door, he tested the knob, not surprised to find it locked. Thankfully, he had at least picked up Sherlock’s bad habit of breaking and entering, pulling out a concealed set of lock picks he kept in his wallet. It took a bit of work, his head occasionally snapping up to make sure no one was paying him any mind, but when the door opened, he was quick to sneak inside.

The place was nothing more than a place allowed to go to hell in the aftermath of the explosion. Sure, it didn’t look as though it had been through anything too terrible, but covered in dust and bits of paint chips from the wall, it was clear that had seen better days. Closing the door quietly behind him, John looked around  quietly, going from room to room until he found himself making his way up the stairs as quietly as he could.

His heart was a constant pounding in his ear, eyes wide with terror as he made his way across the floor. Every creak sounded like a bomb going off in his mind, causing him to stop and look around to make sure that no one heard him. It was until he drew close to the bedroom, faint sounds of humming catching his ear, did he move with a bit more confidence.

Peering through the slightly ajar door, John swallowed nervously when he caught sight of his stalker. It wasn’t anything in the appearance of the man that made him hesitate, quite used to the imposing figure of the taller man. It wasn’t even the scruff that along his jaw that would certainly grow into a beard if not shaved soon, a fact John couldn’t help but linger on. No, what caught his eye more than any tired looking eyes and lips pressed firmly together was the rifle he was putting together as he hummed.

Obviously from the bag that he brought with him, John couldn’t help but be unsettled by his would be sniper’s easiness as he rested it against the windowsill, carefully bringing the scope to his eye. Frowning, John continued watching him for a long moment before carefully slipping into the room, all the while cursing his own stupidity.

All it would’ve taken was one false move, one too loud step as he snuck in, always mindful of the man kneeling in front of the window. Certainly if he was to stop humming or look round, the entire effort would be in pieces, although John was also fairly certain he’d find himself as dead as Sherlock, a thought he didn’t let stop him. Instead, he stood behind him for a long moment, watching him for a reason he couldn’t understand before pouncing into action.

Wrapping his arms around the man’s neck, hand against the back of his head, a silent promise that he’d snap his neck if the man moved, John told him, “Hands off the gun. Stay on your knees.”

While his hands were quick to grab at John’s arm, the man stopped just as quickly, dropping them to his side as he nodded. Tension vanishing from his body a bit too easily, he even raised his hands above his head without John even demanding it. “I wasn’t going to do anything. I swear.”

“Right, you just were pointing a rifle toward my flat for the fun of it,” John said with a roll of his eyes.

Looking over the rifle, he could only thank his good fortune that he had caught sight of his would be killer instead of deciding to head back to his room. Clearly, despite having the misfortune of being stalked by the man, he did have some sort of luck on his side.

“I was spying on you. I wasn’t going to kill you.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust that?” John questioned, tightening his grip on the man’s neck.

His stalker didn’t even fight it, remaining otherwise still and passive; far too calm for someone who could easily find himself dead in a matter of moments. Pressing closer to him, John was fairly certain he knew why when he felt the gun tucked into the back of the man’s trousers. Grabbing it with a lot quicker than he ever would’ve given himself credit for, John backed away from the man, all too content to point a gun at him from a safer distance.

“So, you a soldier or just happened to kill one?” John asked as he took the safety off of the Browning in his hand. Far too much like his own gun, he felt a bit more confident in his impromptu stand-off, even if he was suddenly more worried about who he was dealing with.

“Former colonel,” the man said, voice laced with humour, as though there was something amusing about the situation. “And I meant what I said, John. I was never going to kill you.”

Ignoring the comment, John merely nudged his back with the gun. “Stand up.”

The man complied all too easily, slowly rising to his feet in a careful effort not to make any sudden movements. Even raised his hands above his head, hands open to prove how defenceless he was, not that John was going to buy into that. Gun held tightly in one hand, his other patted down along the other man’s back, certain that he wouldn’t find anything before moving to his sides and repeating the process.

Tensing when his stalker shifted, John pressed the muzzle of the gun more firmly against his head before noting that he only seemed to be spreading his legs, practically inviting John to continue his pat down, all too confident that he had nothing to hide. Of course, John was all too willing to test that, his hands carefully skimming down the outside of the man’s right thigh, moving down to his ankle before bringing it back up along the inside of his leg.

“There’s another gun strapped to my left ankle, but that’s it,” his stalker said as John moved onto his left leg. Glancing over his shoulder at him, he canted his head slightly. “Nothing else.”

Continuing on with his pat down, taking smaller gun when he came to it, John tossed it aside toward the rifle carefully before backing away from the man again. “Turn around,” he ordered.

“John.”

“I said turn around.” Catching the man looking at him yet again, he nodded at him to do as he was told. “Last thing I want to do is use this.”

Nodding along with the sentiment, the man slowly did as he was told, making John regret his own demands. With his back turned, he was just some nutter lurking at the edges of John’s life, but standing there, face to face, he was like the perfect by product of some fevered dream. That wry smile and distant look in his eyes enough to cause John’s breath to catch in his throat as he fought the urge to drop his gun.

“You’re as short as I remember you,” the man said, the laughter in his voice tempered by sadness.

Fighting against his body’s will to cave in front of the man, John steadied the gun in his hand, by gripping his own wrist. The fact that his grip was too tight, nails digging into the skin of his arm as though the pain would snap him out of it, was merely a stroke of luck.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Narrowing his eyes slightly, the man pressed his lips together before shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“No. Who are you and why have you been stalking me?”

“I don’t know.”

He looked so earnest when he said it, brows drawn together in confusion as he gave a small shake of his head, that John couldn’t help but let out a small, sarcastic laugh at the answer. It was a crap answer if he had ever heard one and if the guy though he could just toy around with John like that, he was wrong.

“Try again, because after a few months of you lurking around my life, I’m really tempted to pull this trigger.”

Taking a deep breath, the man shrugged as he said, “My name is Sebastian Moran. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”

“So why stalk me?”

Shrugging, he said, “You’re short.”

“Well I should feel so lucky to be the tiny person you’ve decided to follow about,” John said with a roll of his eyes.

He was nearly positive that there was a good deal of people shorter than him in the world. People who hadn’t been Army captains or skilled doctors. Those who hadn’t spent a painfully brief amount of time in the company of Sherlock Holmes, the one person John would always maintain his faith in. If short was the only criteria the man, Sebastian, was looking for, then he had truly picked the wrong person to mess about with.

Shifting, whether it be out of nerves or stiffness, Sebastian stared at him, obviously debating what it was he wanted to say before finally saying, “It’s not like that. I just… If I explain it, it’ll sound mad.”

“And following a bloke about for months because he’s short is your idea of normal?”

“I suppose,” he said, that distant look falling over his features again as he looked off to his side.

It was a look John knew only too well. Whether it was from seeing it on that same face in his dreams or from his  own reflection when he caught sight of it some days didn’t matter. It was a look of pain, pure and simple; of memories that were better left unrecalled and it made John want to look away and apologize, in spite of everything as a heavy silence seemed to fall over them.

Of course, they couldn’t stand there forever, John pointing a gun at an unarmed man in an empty flat. There were still questions that needed to be answered and if that gave way to breaking the tension that had come between them, it was nothing more than an added benefit, John decided. Although all important questions seemed to fall away as he found himself asking, “What were you humming?”

It was the least important question in the world, but the song lingered in John’s mind. The desolate sound of Sebastian’s voice floating through the hall beautiful and wrong, like when something was just slightly off somehow.

“I heard you and I know I should remember it but…”

“You don’t,” Sebastian offered smugly. “You know the words and the melody, but you don’t know why. Like some long forgotten lullaby.”

Clenching his jaw, John was more than a bit fed up with him. He was the one in control so there was no reason that he should have to stand there taking Sebastian’s crap. “Alright. That’s it. Who are you?”

“I told you that.”

“I want the truth. I’ve a gun, you should be a lot more worried about me using then you are, or do you have a death wish?” He questioned, arching a curious brow at him.

“Perhaps I’m just confident you’ll never use it,” Sebastian said casually.

Narrowing his eyes, John said, “I’ve killed people.”

“Who hasn’t?” Lowering his arms, Sebastian rubbed at his shoulders as he moved closer to John. Stopping a few steps away from him, he held out his hand. “Now, may I have my gun back?”

“No.”

“Then shoot.” Moving until the gun was pressed against his chest, he placed his hand over John’s, telling him, “Shoot me or give me the gun. Do it and I’ll even leave you alone. You can go back to your home with your warm bed and quiet meals.”

Staring at him, unsure of what it was he was supposed to do or even what he wanted to do, John stared up into those pale blue eyes, certain he was losing his mind. “Thorin.”

Momentarily caught off guard, Sebastian was quick to flash him a smile, letting out a small laugh at the name. “Yes. Now may I have my gun back, halfing?”

“You’re meant to be a dream,” John said, fighting the rising sense of panic as he shook his head. “A stupid dream I’ve been having for far too long, but you aren’t real.”

He couldn’t be because John knew he wasn’t some strange creature that lived in a hole and the man before him was far too tall to be some dwarf. Sebastian had to have tapped his flat or something, overheard him talking about his dreams, even if John knew he had only told Ella and Mycroft. Even the physical similarities between the man and the king in had to be based in some reasonable explanation such as John having seen Sebastian somewhere before because any other explanation was insane to say the least.

Although Sebastian seemed all too willing to try and go along with the insanity saying, “I can’t explain it any better than you, but rest assure I am quite real.”

“Sebastian Moran,” he said, managing to make the man’s name sound like an accusation.

“And you’re John Watson now, Bilbo Baggins. Times change.”

“No. None of that was real.”

Smiling, Sebastian gently pried his gun from John’s hands without so much as a fight from him. He knew it was foolish, letting the man just take the gun from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do much more then stand there, watching as Sebastian put the safety on before placing it on the floor and gently kicking over toward the pile.

“Perhaps I’m just a figment and you’re in a psych ward after the death of your friend,” he said, holding up his hand briefly for show before shoving them in his pockets. “Believe what you want.”

“But it was never real.” A point John couldn’t seem to stress enough, though he wasn’t sure whose benefit it was for. “Dwarves and hobbits and wizards aren’t real.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Sebastian snapped, his amusement finally giving way into an anger that felt almost refreshing to John. Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he sighed. “I know… I know what I dream. I know I have flashbacks and that there are people in the world who make want to cry for reasons I can’t explain or kill them right where they stand. Fuck all mate, I joined the army to try to escape my PTSD. It is what is.”

Frowning, John kept his fists balled at his side, fighting the urge to offer some sort of comfort. Even if he didn’t want to believe that Sebastian was the dwarf from his dreams, he knew what it was like, the nightmares and triggers that filled everyday life and he didn’t envy those who clearly suffered a lot more than he ever had.

Perhaps it was that pity that led John to dropping his guard, eyes on the gun pile as he asked, “How did you even find me?”

“Newspapers are a grand invention.”

Swallowing, John nodded in agreement, idly recalling the months where his name was damn near unanimous with bachelor and everyone thought he was sleeping with Sherlock. It was a much better thought than the months that followed.

“So what? You just picked one up one day, saw my face and figured why not stalk a guy who reminds me of a hobbit I once knew?”

“Was it not appreciated?” He questioned.

“Well, when you come here strapped down with about three different guns-“

Glancing at them, Sebastian rubbed his hand along his jaw as he smiled about it to himself. “Just got back to the country from a hunting trip.”

“That sounds very convenient.”

“Also has the benefit of being true,” he said, turning his attentions back to John.

“Let’s say I believe you. Why me? Why not… one of the others?"

“Who’s to say I didn’t find them first?”

“Did you?” He asked, forgetting  the fact that he was supposed to be maintaining a certain amount of caution towards the other man almost instantly. “I mean… like… all of them?”

“Stumble across them easily enough,” Sebastian said. “Always do. It’s almost as though we’re drawn to each other.”

“But not me,” John muttered, feeling disappointed by the thought.

It was almost funny given that, even if Sebastian used to be Thorin, if it was all real, it was clear that everything about the two of them had changed. Sebastian wasn’t on some epic quest to retrieve what had once been his, but rather, merely curious about John. It didn’t make sense for him to get excited over people who wouldn’t be the same dwarves he had travelled with. Not with Sebastian standing before him as proof to the way time and whatever other forces were at play could change people.

Snapping back to attention when he felt the heavy weight of another’s hand on his shoulder, John stared at that smirking face blindly as Sebastian told him, “Perhaps it’s for the better considering you tried to choke me and then threatened to shoot me. I’d hate to imagine how you’d treat the others.”

“I was taught the importance of protecting myself by some very nice dwarves” Smacking the hand off his shoulder, he couldn’t help but note the look of pride on Sebastian’s face. Rolling his eyes, he added, “And you were there, to some extent.”

Chuckling, Sebastian cocked his head to the side as he looked John over curiously. “You’re more flippant than I remember.”

“I’m not some hobbit,” John pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t scare me and I don’t have to follow your commands.”

“Brave words from an unarmed man.”

“Stop following me, Thorin. Sebastian.” Shaking his head, mentally chastising himself because the man before him wasn’t Thorin because it wasn’t possible, John took a deep breath. “Whatever. Stop following me. I… I know people who can force you to if you don’t.”

Lowering his brows, Sebastian asked, “Are you speaking of yourself or Mycroft Holmes?”

“How—“

“I know people as well. But, I should be getting on,” he said making his way over to his guns. Picking up the pistols, he strapped one to his leg again before rucking up his shirt and hiding the other against his back again. Straightening out his clothes, weapons perfectly concealed once again, he looked back at John with an apologetic look. “Long flight after all. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah. No. I mean…” Pausing, John frowned at him. “I don’t want you in my life. I don’t want you following me. This is me, saying no.”

But Sebastian continued on, breaking down his rifle and putting the pieces in some duffle bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he began to leave, pausing at the door just long enough to look back at John and give a salute as he said, “Halfing.”

Saluting back on instinct, John quickly put his hand down the moment Sebastian was out of the room. Rushing over to the window, he waited until he saw the man on the street, hailing a cab as though it was a perfectly normal day. Pacing the room once he was certain Sebastian was gone, John tried to think of what it was he was meant to do next. Certainly calling Mycroft would’ve been the best choice, but the smug bastard knew about Mycroft, which made him wonder if that had been part of the reason that he hadn’t heard anything from the elder Holmes.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down. He needed to think, but he also needed to get back to his flat; possibly even force himself to eat something as he tried to reconcile the fact that his stalker wasn’t out to kill him, but merely thought him some human version of a hobbit from a dream they both seemed to have.

It all sounded so mad, he didn’t even think of setting up another appointment with Ella as he made his way back across the street to the safety of 221B.


	4. Chapter 4

After cancelling on him to go talk to Mycroft, John found himself procrastinating on the matter of rescheduling his meet with Greg. The idea of dealing with his stalker issue seemed a lot more interesting than forcing himself to talk with a man who would be trying to make sure that he was perfectly fine like everyone else did.

Of course, that wasn’t an option either since, it had been nearly a week since he had last seen Sebastian and, while he knew that the odds of never seeing him again were slim, he didn’t like how the waiting left him on pins and needles, eying up every man who even seemed like they could’ve been him. It was rather like being trapped between a rock and a hard place, trying to avoid Greg and Sebastian.

Although, in the end, Greg eventually won out when he simply showed up at 221B and all but demanded that he meet up with him at some pub that Friday. Certainly with nowhere to really run or any handy excuses, John had been forced to agree, something he didn’t regret as much as he sat by the bar, waiting for his friend. If anything, it was almost nice to be out again, the noise of the people around him a pleasant distraction.

“Mind if I join you?”

Stomach dropping at the voice obviously speaking to him, John reluctantly looked toward the man with a scowl. He knew the smug looking bastard would show up eventually, but part of him held out hope that he was wrong given that something about the other set his nerves alight with the odd feelings of wanting to run to him and away from that familiarly bearded face.

“John?” Sebastian asked, eyes darting questioningly to the chair next to his.

Looking at it as well, a beat passing before he remembered that there had been a questioned asked of him, John said, “No. Go away.”

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian pulled out the chair and sat down next to him. Not that John had expected anything else when the question had been asked. Turning toward the bar, John did his best to ignore Sebastian and the way he was watching him expectantly.

“No hello?” He asked after a while.

Clenching his jaw, John rested tapped the side of his thumb against the bar angrily before turning towards him. “What are you doing here?”

“I walked in and, low and behold, you were here as well, so I decided to say hello.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” John asked incredulously.

“No,” Sebastian said as he looked over the array of alcohol behind the bar. “But I figured the obvious answer would’ve dawned on you in due time.”

Opening his mouth to complain, John stopped and leaned in close to the other man and whispered harshly, “I told you to stop stalking me and to leave me alone.”

It was the only thing he had actually wanted from Sebastian. He didn’t even care that the man was stalking him as much, some twisted part of his mind leaping to relate the man next to him with a dwarf  who he had written off as nothing more than a weird continuous dream before meeting Sebastian. But to be plagued by someone who claimed to know him, who looked at him with equal measures of condescension and amusement, in his dreams and outside them as well was too much. He may not have been able to stop the dwarf from lingering in his mind when he slept, but he didn’t have to deal with the man Thorin had become.

Not that Sebastian seemed to see it that way. Sitting there with patronizing grin, as though he thought John cute for actually believing he might listen, he shook his head fondly. “I told you I’d be seeing you. Diametrically opposed views, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m meeting someone here and oddly enough I don’t feel like introducing them to the man who used to be my dwarf king… thing,” John said angrily as he glanced around to make sure no one was listening. It was only when he looked back at Sebastian, who reared back slightly at the comment, grin growing into a rather large smile, did he regret speaking at all.

“I was your king?”

“Piss off, Sebastian.”

“What a very rude thing to tell your king, Halfling.” Gesturing to get the bartender, Sebastian pulled out his wallet and set the money on the counter top, smiling kindly at the bartender as he spoke. “May I have a shot of whiskey, please while he’ll have…”

“I’m not having anything,” John said, mostly because he didn’t want anything from Sebastian except to be left alone.

“Of course not,” Sebastian said, nodding along facetiously before turning back to the bartender and telling him, “He’ll have a beer, any will do.”

Muttering to himself about he didn’t want a pint, John let his attention drift elsewhere, eyes scanning the room for Lestrade, who still wasn’t there. Sparing a quick glance at his watch, he tried to remember that Greg was a detective and tended to be late every now and again. It wasn’t as though he had known about John’s minor stalker problem.

And, looking him over with a frown, John almost allowed himself to believe that it wasn’t so bad being at the man’s side. Even if Sebastian was a bit too different from the dwarf King, it wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it was almost amusing that Sebastian seemed so eager to please, going out of his way to watch John, even if it was a bit unsettling. Thinking that perhaps he ought to just give the man a chance, John paused as his gaze fell upon Sebastian’s lap.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Sebastian asked curiously.

Resting his hand on the bulge against Sebastian’s thigh, he asked, “That a gun or are you just happy to see me?”

“If you want to find out we can always go to the gent’s given that I can’t drop trou in here.”

“You know, you’re not funny, right?” John questioned angrily.

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Sebastian said casually. Flashing a smile at the bartender as she brought his drink, he downed the shot of whiskey without a moment’s hesitation before nudging the glass of beer toward John. “You going to keep your hand on my leg all night, doctor?”

Staring him down, John was sorely tempted to do just that just to spite the man. Of course eventually someone would notice or Lestrade would show up and really John didn’t want to get caught by someone who knew him feeling up the former colonel. Not that he wanted to give Sebastian a reason for that look of superiority on his face either, but in the end, it was the lesser of two evils.

So, resting his hands back on the table where they were clearly visible all to who might look their way, John watched him drink his beer, searching him for some kind of explanation. Not that Sebastian gave him anything more than a small smile before looking around the room.

“So, this person you’re waiting on, is it a date?”

Scoffing, John gave him a questioning look. “Why would I tell you that? I don’t know you or want you around.”

“I’m interested.”

“Interested in me and my dating life?” Laughing bitterly about both the notion of having a dating life once again and the former dwarf king, of all people, taking an interest in it, John couldn’t help but shake his head. “Checking to see if I’m single?”

“Well you’ve already copped a feel before I even got a drink in me, so I figure the least I could do is get a date out of it.”

“Very funny,” John said, rolling his eyes.

Letting out a small huff of amusement, though, Sebastian shook his head. “I’m not joking.”

Searching Sebastian for a hint of mockery, John clenched his jaw slightly when he found none. No, to look at him, Sebastian seemed perfectly serious and completely unbothered by the fact that he had just asked him out.

Taking the beer he had been determined not to have out of pure spite for the man, John began to drink from it, not stopping until the glass was completely empty and he was feeling little bit less tense than before. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head violently because no matter what he had just heard, there was no way that the man was asking him out on a date and he certainly didn’t feel even the slightest bit chuffed about.

“That was a gun,” John said, pointing at Sebastian’s crotch since he felt such a distinction needed to be made.

“True,” Sebastian agreed with a slightly nod. “But what does that have to do with me asking you out?”

Cocking his head to the side slightly, John stared at him, silently hoping that this was all a game. Even with the familiarly serious look that meant Sebastian probably couldn’t find humour in the odd little moment if someone drew a bloody map, John was certain that something had to be wrong. His brows knitting together in thought, he frowned.

“You want me to go on a date with you?” He asked slowly.

Wincing slightly, Sebastian took a deep breath before waving his hand dismissively. “Date is a strong word. It’s more a meeting of old friends.”

Feeling his stomach lurch in dread as his heart beat a little faster out of joy, John said, “I told you to stay out of my life.”

“And we’ve already covered the fact that I don’t take orders, I give them.”

“I’m not some hobbit and you’re no king.”

“I am a colonel, Captain,” Sebastian said, spitting out the title as though it was some sort of insult.

Sitting up straighter, John forced a smile. “Former, which means neither of us are serving anymore.”

It was well worth it to see the way Sebastian looked away, stunned by the comment. If he had thought he was just going to march into John’s life and commence to ordering him about again, John was only too happy to show him how hard that was going to be. He wasn’t going to be forced to any parties or bend to the will of a man he didn’t even know.

“Times change,” he muttered, tapping the side of his thumb on the table again.

Ducking his head as he smirked, Sebastian ran his thumb along the corner of his mouth. Sparing a glance at John through his eyelashes, he let out a soft laugh. “How quaint. You know I have a gun and yet you continue to reject me.”

“Most people might call that brave.”

“Bravery is just stupidity we admire in other people,” Sebastian said, raising his glass to the bartender.

And while john wasn’t sure what he thought of the sentiment, given that he’d been called stupid for his bravery in the past, he didn’t like it coming from Sebastian. It just made him seem like even more of a shadow of the dwarf he used to be since John knew Thorin would’ve never believed such a thing.

Waving off the bartender when she offered to refill his drink after she’d done the same for Sebastian, John found himself staring at his empty cup, trying to reconcile the annoying series of emotions the man he knew nothing about seem to drudge up by merely bearing a resemblance to a person from John’s dreams.

“I used to find you very brave,” he said, nervously looking away from the glass to the man at his side.

If anything, his words seemed to do more harm than good. Where Sebastian had merely seemed flippant before, there was once again that look of pain and humility in his eyes as he pursed his lips together.

“I was a very brave soul and it cost me everything from my father to my nephews to my life,” he said with a bitter laugh in his voice. Downing the shot with a small wince, he shrugged. “And all for what? A hoard of treasures that I scarcely got to enjoy. I was merely a stubborn fool. You were and, apparently still are, strangely brave.”

Looking away quickly, hopelessly trying to find Lestrade in order to hide the faint blush colouring his cheeks, John nodded. “Nice to know my stupidity is admired?”

“Just say yes, John.” Resting a hand on his shoulder, Sebastian gave him a mock pleading look when John finally forced himself to look at the other man. “They’d love to see you. They miss you. You’re one of us.”

It was a beautiful sentiment, but John knew it wasn’t true. No matter how lovely the idea of seeing them all again seemed, the fact remained that they weren’t going to be the same people. They’d be different just like Sebastian was different and given that all he seemed to have in life was the memories of friends he adored, he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that, especially not by doing something as simple as just being a bit different.

Licking his lips, John placed his hand over Sebastian’s with a said smile. “No I’m not. I’m just a man who has odd dreams about a bloke who stalks me.”

“Well then come because I miss you. It’s not as though you have anything better to do. I should know, I stalk you,” Sebastian said, giving him a pointed look.

Smiling slightly, John narrowed his eyes at the other man as he told him, “I don’t like this new sarcastic you.”

Even if the comforting feel of Sebastian’s hand against his shoulder, held there by his own palm, was something that left him feeling stupidly happily, as though he’d done something right, his attitude bothered John. And that was the problem, all those little reminders lying out there for him; reminders of what was so right it hurt and the wrongness that made him want to leave whenever the other was near. Eyes dropping to the bulge of Sebastian’s gun, he pursed his lips at the thought that those differences bothered him more than any gun ever would.

Of course, all Sebastian noticed were the eyes lingering on his gun. Quickly moving his hand from John’s shoulder to rest over the bulge, he ran his tongue along his teeth with a soft grunt. “I’m not threatening you to meet everyone again.”

“Despite the gun,” John pointed out, finally tearing his gaze away to look Sebastian in the face again. “Or were you hunting again?”

“Hunting in London?” Rolling his eyes at the mere thought, Sebastian shook his head, saying, “It’d be hard enough to shoot the right person, let alone an animal.”

“Person?” John questioned, finding a great deal of interest in his choice of words.

Sebastian, on the other hand, merely waved it off as though it was nothing before going back to his point. “Look, I know at least one person who would love to have you there.”

“Only one?”

Taking a deep breath, Sebastian gave John a look that seemed to perfectly express what kind of idiot he thought him to be before looking away. Jaw working nervously, he seemed to hesitate before muttering, “Well, I was hoping my view of you might still mean something. So, what do you say halfing?”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not that short.”

“Will you go or not?”

Sighing, John stared up at the ceiling as though some divine answer was written there. It was such a simple question. He even knew the answer he should’ve been giving without a moment’s hesitation and yet, his mouth refused to form the words.

Pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes, John asked, “How am I even supposed to get in contact with you, hmm?”

It certainly wasn’t a yes, but it was enough to have Sebastian smiling proudly as he said, “Well, I will give you my number and then text you a location where you can meet up with us if you so choose.”

“You stalk me, but you don’t have my phone number?”

“I like to keep a little mystery in my life. Phone?” He asked, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, John dug through his pockets until he found his mobile. Pulling it out, he looked between it and Sebastian, who he knew almost nothing about, before handing it over, knowing he’d likely regret it as the man flashed him a pleased smile. Sitting there, watching him carefully to make sure that he just put in his number, John tried to remind himself that this really was the best compromise. He wasn’t being forced anywhere, just given the option when the moment arose. It was a good thing, even if John still found himself leaning toward Sebastian as he watched him like a hawk.

It was only the sound of his own name coming from a familiar voice that made him look away from Sebastian to find the person he’d been waiting on in the first place. Standing up as Greg made his way to the bar, he hugged the other man, only too happy to see him once again. He had never felt so chuffed to see anyone as of late. Ella’s insistence that he needed to get out and see his friends seemed to be more than a little true.

And certainly Greg seemed only too thrilled to see him as well, although that looked faded the moment he caught sight of the blue eyes watching him like a hawk. Staring back, Greg frowned as he nodded at him, asking John, “Who’s he?”

Looking over at Sebastian, John wracked his mind for the best thing to say without sounding like a complete mad man. “Uh… This is…”

“A man who is sitting in your spot, obviously,” Sebastian said as he got up and gestured toward the seat he’d just left. Moving so that Greg could take it, he stood at John’s side and unsubtly slipped his phone back into his pocket. “There you go, Halfling.”

“Halfling?” Greg questioned, suddenly quite interested in the stranger.

“It’s a pet name.” Resting a hand on John’s shoulder, he squeezed it gently as he said, “So, call me sometime. We can have a bit of fun, maybe get dinner. See where the night takes us, yeah?”

“You’re a git.” Elbowing his side, John smiled shyly at his friend, scarcely sparing a glance back at Sebastian as he told him, “Greg, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, Greg.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Greg,” Sebastian said, holding out his hand.

Shaking it, Greg forced a smile, though it was clear that he still felt a bit tense around the other man. “You too, mate.”

“Seb’s an old mate. We uh… fought together once upon a time,” John said, thinking that it wasn’t too much of a lie. Taking his seat again, John looked Sebastian over before adding, a bit cheekily, “I saved his life. A few times actually.”

“It’s true, although no one likes a cocky bastard,” Sebastian warned, not that John cared. In a public place with a DI by his side, he didn’t think that Sebastian would do anything bad. Patting John’s thigh, though he leaned in close and told him, “Seriously, though, call me. If it makes you feel better, I’ll even write up a terms and services contract for you to read beforehand.”

“Goodbye, Sebastian,” John said, pointedly not looking at anyone but Greg.

“Bye John.” Focusing on Greg, he smiled politely. “It was a brief pleasure, Greg.”

“You too,” he said giving a small wave as Sebastian left. Watching him make his way through the crowd, Greg waited until he was walking through the door before he turned his attentions to John, the look on his face matching the worry in his eyes. “So, who was that?”

“Sebastian. We fought together a long time ago, lost touch and recently reconnected is all,” he said casually as he could.

“Just fought?”

“What? No,” he said, the moment what Greg was implying dawned on him. “I mean… He was kidding about the flirting thing. We’re not… Not that there’s anything wrong with that but… We’re just friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, like me and you,” he stated, silently daring Greg to continue on with his ridiculous line of questioning.

“Well, either way that’s good to know, really. I mean, for the most part a good number of us thought you were shutting down after everything with Sherlock,” Greg said, eying him cautiously as he mentioned the late friend. And even though he had a death grip on his empty glass, John didn’t seem as though he was letting his mind linger on Sherlock for too long, which was an improvement no matter how small. Patting John’s back he told him, “It’s nice to know that you’ve just been spending time with your army mates.”

“Yeah. He was inviting me to a little get together with some other friends,” he said softly,

“Going to go?”

“I think so. Maybe. Really need to see that terms and services agreement first.” Catching the odd look Greg gave him, John smiled to himself as he waved off the comment. “It’s a stupid inside joke. Sorry. We need alcohol.”

“Agreed,” Greg said before attempting to get the attention of the bartender.

Even if he knew that they weren’t going to be the same, the idea of seeing what had become of the former dwarf company was a tempting one. That and, at the very least, it would give him a reason to get out of his flat. After all, it wasn’t every day that the best way to move forward with one’s life was by looking back towards another.


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps he was just drawn to making bad life choices. After all, John was fairly certain that no one else he knew would find themselves spending the better part of the week staring at a rather mundane text from their stalker nee former dwarf king. No, most people probably would’ve told him piss off and then did something about it when such things failed such as go to the police. They would’ve told someone about the odd dreams that had been plaguing them for years. Most people would’ve done a number of simple things that definitely would not have found them standing outside a relative stranger’s flat in Mayfair.

And yet, that was exactly where John found himself, phone clenched tightly in his hand as he looked from the address on the screen to the door in front of him, knowing that he was in the right place and still hesitating to knock on the door since he knew it was a bad idea. He didn’t even know if he could trust Sebastian and yet, he still found himself outside a door he’d been told to go to. For all he knew, it could’ve certainly meant his death if he was to actually knock on the door.

Walking away, he had nearly convinced himself that it was a terrible idea and that Sebastian just might take the hint if he didn’t show up that evening. Of course, that would’ve also meant not meeting any of his old friends if Sebastian was being honest, which was enough to make him halt his retreat.

Taking a deep breath, John turned on his heel and marched up to the door again. Knocking before his nerves could get the better of him, he stood there expectantly, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what it was he expected. Whatever it was, the tall, dark haired man that opened the door, all smiles and excitement certainly wasn’t it especially since he definitely wasn’t Sebastian.

Scuffing his foot against the ground, John nodded at him nervously. “Uh… Hi. I’m looking for a Sebastian Moran.”

“Of course you are,” the man said, sounding a bit in awe. Shaking his head, he ushered John into the flat, immediately leading him to the living room. “Come. Sit. Seb’s just in his bedroom with Perry.”

Frowning, John made his way over to the sofa, taking his time to look over the flat. While Sebastian wasn’t the king he claimed to have once been, there was no way he was wanting for money in his new life, if the Mayfair flat was anything to go on. After all, while the location was enough to cause John pause, being inside was even worse since John was fairly certain that it had been done up by a decorator at some point.

Sitting down, John watched as the mystery man who had answered the door sat down in the chair across from him. Resting his hands in his lap, John let out a drawn out exhale before asking, “So… Perry a pet or something?”

“You could say that. Course he might get a bit upset if you did,” the man said with a wry grin, obviously finding amusement in the idea.

Eyes widening slightly, John worked his mouth quietly before running a hand through his hair. “Oh...”

He knew Sebastian wasn’t married, the lack of wedding ring being one of the man things he had noticed about the man in their two very brief moments, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have been with someone. Nor did it mean that such a person couldn’t have been a man. Eyes casually taking in the room, John scanned the room for photos that he might’ve missed and was pleased to find none, even if he still felt a bit odd concerning the idea of Sebastian dating someone.

Resting a hand on his knee, the man before him smiled kindly at him as he shook his head in disbelief. “You know, when he said he’d found you, I didn’t believe him. I mean, he’s a great man, but you’re quite the little devil to come across.”

“Sebastian told you about me?”

“Yeah. In fact, I think he’ll be the most surprised to find you here. He didn’t think you’d actually show and yet look at you, here and early at that.”

“It’s only polite to be punctual,” John muttered as he focused on pulling at a loose string from his shirt.

Laughing, the man nodded in agreement as he said, “Good ol’ Mr. Baggins.”

And while he tried to shrug off the name as best he could, as he was certain there would be a great deal of that over the night, he couldn’t shake off the strangeness of hearing it and quickly found himself saying, “It’s John, actually. John Watson.”

“Oh. Terribly sorry.” Sitting back in his seat the man suddenly looked horribly confused, sparing a glance off toward what John could only assume was the hallway that led to Sebastian’s room. Furrowing his brows as he looked back at John, suddenly quite sad, he said, “I just.. I guess I was just making wild assumptions about you since you met Sebastian and you’re here. Honestly, I—“

Revelations slowly dawning on him, John waved his hands frantically. “I mean, I was Mr. Baggins long ago, but I’m not anymore. I’m just John and I certainly don’t know how I’m expected to know who any of you are. I mean, I hardly doubt any of the dwarves look as they once did.”

Relieved, the man nodded before chuckling to himself as he rubbed at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve yet to see the lads. Arthur and Hugh look just as they did, really. So does Dale, for the most part. But I’m rambling again and getting far too ahead of myself for you to keep up.”

Nodding in agreement, John had to admit that he was more than a bit relieved that at least one person took his feelings into consideration. Sebastian had essentially forced his way into John’s life regardless of what he actually wanted, so to be thought of was a relief.

Not that he even got a chance to say such a thing or anything else before he found what was slowly becoming a pleasant conversation interrupted by the current bane of his existence.

Wiping freshly shaven his face with a flannel, Sebastian walked over to the two of them, followed closely by another man. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” John said with a small roll of his eyes as he looked at Sebastian. Lips parted, John stared at him, his mind fighting to think of the clean shaven man before him as Sebastian or Thorin or anyone else. “Your beard… It’s gone.”

Looking a bit taken aback by the statement, Sebastian laughed softly before looking to muscular man at his side with a smirk. “Perry said I looked like a complete berk with a beard. Funny how times change.”

“You did look like a berk.” Settling down on the sofa next to John, Perry held out his hand with what had to pass for a kind smile on the gruff man’s face. Not that he looked entirely unpleasant, but something about the large, bald man made John wary. “And Mr. Baggins, it is a good thing to see you again.”

“Thank you,” he said, shaking Perry’s hand somewhat nervously.

“No, Perry, he’s Mr. Watson now,” the kindly, though still unknown man said before whispering in a conspiratory tone, “John Watson, the blogger.”

“Ah. That is you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Although I’m still not quite sure who you are,” he said as he scooted further toward the corner of the sofa.

He didn’t know why it was, given that he had certainly dealt with people far worse than the large men he found himself surrounded by. But just knowing that they were some of the dwarves that he’d dreamt of emptying his pantry made him feel a bit on edge for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

“Dwalin and Bofur,” Sebastian said, pointing to Perry and the mystery man in turn. “Two of my oldest friends.”

“Seriously?” Looking between the two of them, John wanted to laugh at the idea because while the names conjured up images of bearded dwarves with large noses and ears, the two men certainly didn’t seem to share such an appearance. They were just two middle aged chaps. Giving them the once over again, John shook his head before looking at Sebastian in disbelief. “Bofur and Dwalin?”

“It’s James and Perry these days, but yes,” James said with a slight shrug.

Turning towards James, suddenly understanding the odd sense of comfort he got from him, John felt a lot more excited as he asked, “And who are Hugh and… everyone else you mentioned?”

“You’ll see before long, rest assured of that fact, Mr Watson,” Perry said, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Ignoring the brief terrifying thought that he was going to be crushed by the dwarf before the night was over, John frantically reminded himself that he wasn’t a hobbit who could be so easily squashed. Although, giving Perry the once over again, John still couldn’t shake the feeling that the man could still squash him quite easily, even if he didn’t intend to.

So casting all thoughts aside, he cleared his throat quietly as he patted Perry’s hand. “Please. Just call me John? It’s bad enough that Sebastian’s taken to calling me halfing.”

“Perhaps if you had grown since I last saw you, I wouldn’t feel the need to,” Sebastian said from where he still stood, watching them all with a fond smile.

It was the sort of happy look he had never really seen on Thorin’s face in his dreams all that often. Thorin was a much broodier person, with due cause, and while Sebastian was someone with a very posh way of life and a Perry, since John couldn’t shake the idea that Sebastian would find himself with Dwalin, of all people.

Although that was before Perry leaned away from him, sizing up before letting out a bark of laughter. “He is a tiny one, isn’t he?”

“He’s also sitting right here,” John said pushing Perry’s hand off his shoulder, suddenly thinking both him and Sebastian a perfectly rude pair that was more than fit for each other.

Catching the look of annoyance on his face, James gave him a sympathetic look as he waved them off, saying, “Don’t mind them. They’re a boyish pair, the two of them.”

“And certainly by the end of the night you’ll be only too used to the sort of things that might be said about you, our dear burglar,” Perry added.

Looking between Perry and James, John let out a defeated sigh. “I suppose I should be grateful you two haven’t changed,” he said, intending for it to be more fond lament than an actual complaint.

“That’s a grand way of viewing things,” James said with a nod. Rising to his feet, he smiled causing John to wonder how it was he never related the happy look to Bofur, beard or no. “Would you like a drink?”

“Uh… Sure.”

“Great,” he said as there was a sudden and loud knock. Glancing at the door, he gestured for Sebastian to stay put as he said, “Perry will get the door while I get the drinks. Seems as though people are already arriving.”

Reluctantly standing up, Perry let out a tired noise before giving James a mock salute before making his way toward the door, saying, “Aye aye, Colonel.”

“Colonel?” John questioned, positive that he had missed something along the way.

“Unlike the two of us, James is still in the army,” Sebastian said, sitting down in Perry’s spot.

Stunned, John could only look at James, who was only too quick to beat a hasty and bashful retreat to the kitchen. Turning back to Sebastian for some sort of confirmation, John only grew more surprised when the former dwarf king merely shrugged. Leaning into the sofa, John called out loudly, “So much for the toy maker I once knew.”

“Time changes us all,” James called back.

“Yeah,” he agreed easily enough. After all, he was certain that his life choices didn’t fit with that of a hobbit who’d been so intent on avoiding anything dangerous or thrilling. Of course, the fact that they had all went on that journey meant that, perhaps, there was a bit of a soldier in all of them.

Looking at Sebastian, who was watching him with a pleased look on his face, John ducked his head shyly. Certainly the odd bout of nerves the man seemed to induce in him just by being too close was something he would’ve happily changed about himself. Struggling for anything to saying, John gestured at him vaguely, muttering, “And uh… Perry, was it? He’s right about the beard. You look like less of a berk without it.”

Cocking his head to the side curiously, Sebastian ran his fingers along his newly shaved jawline. “I believe that was verging on the edge of being a compliment.”

“Yeah. It rather was, wasn’t it?” John said, chancing a look at him.

Something he clearly should’ve done sooner since he barely had a chance to look at him before someone was squeezing themselves between him and Sebastian and pulling him into a fierce embrace. He didn’t see the person who owned the other set of arms around him, but the moment he heard that familiar laughter, calling out the wrong name, he was certain of who it was.

“Mr. Boggins! Look it, Hugh! It really is him!”

“Arthur, let him go,” Sebastian said, trying to pry the young man off John and shove him out of where he had essentially deposited himself in Sebastian’s lap at the same time. “You’re likely to squeeze the breath right out of him.”

Looking over John’s shoulder to the man John could only assume was Fili, Arthur eventually did as he was told with a rather heavy sigh. The fact that he was still smiling broad enough to make John’s cheeks ache in sympathy, proved he wasn’t nearly as upset as he let on.

“Pardon. Really, I just didn’t believe Sebby when he said you… were you.”

“Kili,” Happy not to have the two sets of arms hugging him to death, he took in the young man before glancing at Fili. “Geez, you really haven’t changed.”

If nothing else, James had been absolutely correct when it came to the two former dwarf princes. Not only did they still seem to act like Fili and Kili, Hugh sitting calmly at John’s side, watching Arthur with a fond smile as the younger man fought not to squirm in his seat with excitement, but they looked almost exactly the same. Not that Kili had ever been the stereotypical dwarf, but John was still surprised to find that the only real difference was that his hair was shorter and curlier. Even Fili, or Hugh, showed more differences, what with the short hair and the five o’clock shadow, slightly smaller features.

It made him think that he probably wasn’t the least changed of them after all.

“We’ve changed a great deal, Mr Baggins,” Hugh said, proudly.

Giving him a confused look, Arthur at least caught on quickly before nodding his head vigorously. “Oh yes. Changed a great deal.”

“Far more responsible, if anything.”

“But of course.”

Scoffing from where he must’ve sat down at some point or another, Perry shook his head. “They’re the same Fili and Kili. Still silly boys with too much responsibility. After all, I heard Arthur even has his own little connections in the government,” He said, pretending to be a bit confused on the matter.

Dreading both the idea that Arthur might have more power than John would’ve ever have liked to see in the hands of Kili and that he might also know of Mycroft, John looked at Hugh and asked, “Christ. Should I worry about you as well?”

It was meant as a joke, but if it fell short, well certainly none of them could blame him for his worries.

And certainly Hugh didn’t seem bothered by the question as he shook his head, a rather amused grin on his face. “My job is of no consequence to public policy, I can assure you.”

“He works for five,” Sebastian scoffed.

“Ignore Sebastian,” Hugh said as he rolled his eyes. Not that John could help looking at the man at his side a bit differently with that in mind. Leaning closer to John as he placed an arm around his shoulder’s Hugh frowned. “He’s a bitter man who has to suffer through living off his family’s wealth in Mayfair, of all places, the poor bastard.”

“He swore he would live like a king and damn it all if he doesn’t try,” Arthur said, a faint laugh in his voice as he glanced at Sebastian nervously.

“Yeah. I thought he was just having me on when he gave me the address,” John admitted, feeling even more at ease between the two men.

“Even worse is the fact that it’s just as nice on the inside,” Hugh complained, gesturing to the room with faux anger. “Honestly, I don’t think any of us live nearly as well as our king.”

“Why don’t you go the kitchen?” Sebastian suggested loudly as he glared at the lot of them. “There’s food.”

 “I think you’ve rather upset him,” James said finally returning from the kitchen, somehow managing to balance a drink for each of them in his arms since the odd dwarven skill seemed to not only linger, but actually be rather useful.

“He’s still a very temperamental man, you understand, Mr Boggins,” Arthur said as he stood up, grabbing his drink from James with a pleased grin.

Chancing a look at Sebastian, who looked as unreadable as ever, John decided not to comment on his thoughts of the man. Instead he gratefully took his glass from James and told them, “It’s John Watson, actually.”

“We know.”

Getting to his feet as well, Hugh also helped in alleviating James of his troubles before placing an arm around Arthur’s shoulder, hugging him close as he gave John a smug look while Arthur said, “We’ve read your blog plenty. Pity about that mate of yours.”

Despite the genuineness with which the statement was said, John couldn’t help but pause at it, much like everyone else given that James and Perry seemed to staring at him with worry in their eyes while Sebastian seemed quite ready to smack Hugh for his comment.

Taking a rather large sip of his drink, John nodded. “Uh… Yeah. It was.”

“Come along, Arthur. Your mouth is oddly empty,” Hugh said, an apologetic look on his face as he glanced back at John.

Arthur seemed entirely oblivious as he let himself be led away, asking, “Is that innuendo?”

Waiting until they were out of the room, John looked at the three men who remained, asking, “Anyone else still the same?”

“I rather think we all are,” James said as he took to standing next to the seat Perry had stolen from him. “Of course, we’ve known each other for some time so only you’ll be able to say by the end of the night.”

Nodding in agreement, John contented himself to the idea that he would simply have to wait and see. Not that it was all that much of a wait as before long, the flat seemed to be rather lousy with men, each showing up one by one as the evening progressed. The lack of beards and hair proved to be quite the problem for a good number of them since John wouldn’t have even guessed that some of them might look like they did under all that hair. And even worse was trying to match up names to the rather new faces and trying valiantly to remember how each would act in his dreams.

For the most part, it seemed as though James was right. Balin was a teacher by the name of Hilton Soames, who seemed to have had the pleasure of teaching one or two of his former companions, although when John tried to get the story about that, he found himself dragged away to talk to others as everyone seemed to be vying for his attention. Nori was definitely his usual self, straight down to the criminal record he managed to rack up in his new life as Fred Portlock, though John had his doubts about the realness of his last name given that he had paused for a long moment before giving it.

Oin was a doctor, Leslie Armstrong, but that was probably one of the more expected shifts John had heard of that evening, much like how Gloin, or rather DI Bradstreet, made a career out of keeping people in line. Although, it had been a bit strange to learn that the detective seemed to know of Lestrade, his cases and even Sherlock a lot better than John would’ve expected from anyone in the company. Of course, so did Ori, who was apparently a dedicated journalist named Dale Pike.

Bifur was a translator and a damn good one by the name of Melas and John couldn’t decide if that was expected or not given that he’d simply been a bit stunned to hear Bifur speak clearly and not have an axe sticking out of his head. Then there was Captain Crocker, who had been Dori once upon a time, a pleasant enough pilot who still hovered around Dale like the big brother he had once been since, it seemed, none of them were related to each other like before. And Bombur, John almost missed entirely since he also had the benefit of being at least half his original size. If not for Arthur’s pointing him out, John was certain that he would’ve never connected the plump dwarf with Scott Eccles, who he apparently simply was now.

It was all so much information to take in, all the conversations and tales of what their lives had been like, everything from war stories to childhood adventures coming out in ready waves from the lot of them, someone always managing to jump in with something better to say. Nothing in his current life or the one he had previously lived could’ve ever prepared him for what he was face with. So when he managed to find himself a hiding spot while the raucous group carried on amongst themselves, he couldn’t have been more pleased with himself.

“So, hiding in the hallway?” Dale asked, all smiles as he handed John one of the drinks in his hands.

Looking between Dale and where everyone else was still happily carrying on with the evening, John let out a nervous laugh. “Not hiding, simply… Taking a break.”

“They are a bit much the first time.”

“Exactly.” Not that John didn’t immediately adore each and every one of them, even if they were still a great deal more than he could ever dream of handling. Sighing happily as he scanned the room, he shrugged, “Besides, I like watching them. It’s nice to see them all so happy.”

Looking at the group himself, Dale nodded in agreement, a smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing’s changed, really. Well, aside from the lack of beards and bad hair.”

“Kind of a large change,” John scoffed.

Pointing accusingly at him, Dale told him, “Says the man wearing shoes.”

Something John didn’t even consider as he wriggled his toes inside his shoes. Looking down at them with a fond look, he could easily recall the too real feeling of ground under his feet from his dreams and nearly grimaced at the idea of just walking everywhere barefoot.

“I suppose that is a bit of a change, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit, but for you, we let it slide,” Dale said, nudging him playfully.

Chuckling, John’s sense of amusement faded the moment Sebastian’s laughter cut through the room. Looking toward where the man was happily listening to an animated story from Hugh, leaned against Perry for support, unaware of the way the man watched him as he did, John couldn’t help the rising feelings of annoyance. Things changed, that was something the had all readily agreed to it seemed, but Perry and Sebastian was just too much of a change for John to find any amusement in.

Nodding over at the small group that was Perry, Sebastian, Arthur, Hugh and James, he asked, “And I suppose the relationships have changed a bit too, huh? No one seems to be related anymore. People are dating each other.”

Paling slightly, Dale quickly finished off his drink, which did its part to help calm him from the looks of things. “Someone tell you about that? Well, I suppose it was bound to come out eventually.”

“It’s really no big deal,” John said in rush, not wanting anyone to think he was angered or anything by the way things had worked out. “Just… odd, I suppose.”

“Yeah, well, to be fair, I’m fairly certain Hugh fell for Arthur before he realized just what the man used to be to him. Happens, I suppose, the memories being slow to come back. It’s like they have to be triggered or something for some.”

Staring at him, John furrowed his brows, certain that he had heard something wrong.

“Arthur and Hugh? I thought Sebastian and Perry were an item?”

“Perry and Seb? No. They’re merely… Dwalin and Thorin, really. Close, but definitely not that close. Well, at least not now from what I know.”

“What do you mean not now? Were they before?” John asked, hating his sudden gossipy nature, but needing to know.

“Nothing like that. It’s just…” Pausing, Dale glanced at Sebastian sadly, before shaking his head. “I really shouldn’t say this. It’s not my place.”

“Ori,” he pleaded.

For a moment he was certain that the journalist might actually stick to his guns and keep his secret information secret, but at his core, Dale was still Ori and the idea of not explaining, of telling his story his best to clear things up, was eating away at him.

“Sebastian had a boyfriend,” he said, obviously annoyed with himself as the words started spilling forth. “This place used to be lousy with pictures of the two of them, but then the bloke he was with died and… He carries on well enough now, but if you ever wanted to see the old Thorin, you should’ve been around back then.”

“That’s terrible,” John said, unable to keep his eyes from drifting back to the happy man who had invited him over. No matter how much he may have missed Thorin, he knew from the way Dale put it, that the resurgence of those old behaviours was not a good thing.

“Yes, it is, but you didn’t hear that from me and it’ll do you good not to mention it to him. He’s a nice guy and I’d hate for his evening to be ruined because I let it out, alright?”

“Of course. You go… back to partying, I suppose?” He said, suddenly feeling rather unsure of himself and why he was even there. “I just have to process this and the Kili Fili thing.”

“It’ll help by not thinking of them as Kili and Fili. That’ll only make you question just how close they were back then, I can promise you that.” 

Slowly sipping his drinking, John nodded as Dale walked away, his eyes fixed on Sebastian who was laughing at something James had told him, Perry at his side still. All those casual looks the latter cast at the former king suddenly seeming less romantic and more concerned because John was starting to get that he would always be Dwalin and that meant always worrying about his best friend.

It made John happy to know that Sebastian had someone like that in his life still, although such feelings were nothing compared to the curiosity he felt regarding the secrets Sebastian was apparently keeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And all the dwarves and their non-dwarf names, for future reference:
> 
> Dale Pike (Ori), Fred Portlock (Nori), Bert Crocker (Dori), Tom Melas (Bifur), James (Bofur), Scott Eccles (Bombur), Hugh Oberstein (Fili), Arthur Walter (Kili), Dr. Leslie Armstrong (Oin), DI Peter Bradstreet (Gloin), Percival Johnson (Dwalin), Hilton Soames (Balin).


	6. Chapter 6

When he had been told that he had a patient to see, John didn’t think much of it. After all, he was at work and that’s what tended to happen when one was a doctor. The sick and the fearful tended to show up for their various reasons and he’d help them out as best they could, even if that meant assuring the odd person that heart pain from a week ago and the odd headache didn’t mean that they were dying from a stroke. It was only when he found himself face to face with his patient did he realize that never again would he actually be all that safe.

Sighing, John stared at the blonde sitting on the table with a far larger grin than most people who visited him came in with. He figured he shouldn’t have been all that surprised and possibly more than a bit grateful that it wasn’t Sebastian, but all he found himself doing was frowning at the chart in his hand before looking back at the man.

“Hugo Oberstein? Bit German.”

Letting out an amused grunt, Hugh shrugged half-heartedly at him. “So were my grandparents.”

“That might explain it,” John said awkwardly. It was a bit funny to think about as he considered the man’s chart. Even if he felt like he knew the man before him better than some of his closest friends, it took only the smallest of things to remind him that he was actually quite wrong. Putting the chart aside, though, he pulled up a chair to the table, offering up his best doctor like smile as he asked, “So, are you really here about your stomach pain or was that just a clever excuse?”

“Bit of both. Mostly the latter.”

“Well in that case, lie back and lift your shirt,” he said, as he pulled his chair over to the table and sat down.

“It’s actually not that serious,” Hugh argued, making no move to do as he was told.  “It’s just a bit of bruising.”

“Bruising from what?”

“Accident at work. Nothing serious.”

“And yet, as a doctor, I still have to see for myself to make that decision on my own. Come on. If it’s nothing serious, there’s nothing to hide,” he said, rather used to the occasional patient who came in only to try and cower out of being treated like a child faced with getting a needle jab.

Of course, Hugh was still a bit slow to do as he was told, sitting there with his eyes on John, as though he could will him to move on to another topic. Staring back at him expectantly John gestured for him to get a move on, quietly muttering to himself about the stubbornness of dwarves when Hugh finally gave in.

“Fine,” he said, lying back on the table like he was told. “But I actually came here to talk.”

Nodding along to prove that he was listening, John carefully lifted the man’s shirt to get a look at the bruising. And while he didn’t quite know what it was he was expecting, the blue green mark bisecting the man’s stomach certainly wasn’t it. Gently pressing on it, his eyes trained on Hugh’s face, John muttered, “Christ. That’s a minor work accident?”

“Yes,” Hugh said wincing slightly when John gave a bit firmer press to the bruise.

Giving him a suspicious look, John couldn’t help but ask, “And what is it you do for a living again?”

“Nothing of relating to public policy is what I told you before,” Hugh said as he slowly sat back up, letting his shirt fall back down on its own.

“Clearly. You’ve at least been to see someone about that, yes?”

Because just looking at it, John knew that while it had healed considerably from what had likely started off as a horrible blackish purple bruise rather nicely, there were still a number of things that could’ve been wrong, even still, on his insides and that definitely wasn’t the kind of problem that was meant to be overlooked.

“Yes. I saw Leslie and I’m fine. It just hurts to move, as one would expect. Now, can we talk about what Dale told you are that party?”

“You mean that he works for a paper?” John asked, being intentionally oblivious.

“No,” Hugh said, sounding mildly annoyed with him. “The other thing. About the question you asked him.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. I asked if Thorin… I mean, Sebastian and Perry, I think, were dating and he said no. And if this is about him telling me about Sebastian’s ex, I kind of forced him into that.” Flashing a smile, and feeling particularly hopeful that that might be good enough, he added, “See? Nothing serious, aside from the fact that I fear Sebastian may know where I work.”

“I didn’t get the information from Sebastian.”

“That’s a lot more unsettling,” he said, wondering when exactly he would need to start worrying about the casual way the odd group of men seemed to invade his privacy. It wasn’t as though they weren’t nice guys, but they were still relative strangers and out of all the things to change over time, John’s rather large dislike of people randomly invading his life wasn’t one of them.

Not that Hugh seemed to care one way or another, far more focused on his reason for tracking down John down in the first place. Giving him a pointed stare, Hugh said, “And I also didn’t come here to talk about him, which I’m assuming you know.”

“Yeah, but I figured you might catch onto the fact that we really don’t have to talk about you and Arthur because you’re just two blokes who happen to be dating, which is great. Congrats on that,” he said, still trying to avoid the topic.

“Except it’s not nearly that simple, is it?”

Breathing in deeply, John rubbed at his eyes tiredly as he shook his head. “Whatever was, was. It’s not as though any of you are related any more. Hell, you lot could have one giant orgy and everything would be fine.”

“I take sleeping pills,” Hugh said, unwillingly to be distracted. “Less so now, but that doesn’t matter as much as a rather interesting side effect of them.”

“Supressed dream recall,” he said, given that he knew enough of sleeping pills to know of the small side effect. Certainly for most, not remembering dreams couldn't be that bad, but given the odd situation they all found themselves in, John could see how it might be problematic.

“Imagine that. For all I know I could’ve been having the dreams for years now and never known because… Well, I don’t get enough sleep for various reasons. Pills help.”

“So what changed?” John asked.

“Taking up with Arthur. I liked him, felt drawn him,” Hugh said, laughing at the irony of his own words. Looking at his hands in his lap, he gave a small shake of his head before looking back at John without even the slightest bit of explanation as to the thoughts in his head as he carried on without pause. “So, we started dating and before long he was questioning the pills, asking for me to give to try life without them.”

“And you did it because you’re just a great big pushover,” he said sarcastically.

“Worked out in the end. Sort of. Caused the odd riff here and there, but eventually everyone moved on.”

“And now you’re worried I might judge you?”

“Or him,” Hugh said, giving him a pointed look.

And if it hadn’t been easy to accept whatever it was that had managed to happen between the men that used to be brothers in some long ago time, it was certainly was when facing the lengths Hugh would go for Arthur. The man wanted to know that John wasn’t going to treat the younger man any different, just as protective of him as before, even though the rationale was a bit different these days. Still, if they were happy, John didn’t see any reason to judge them for it since they weren’t anyone by being together, as far as he knew.

“I would never do that. I told you, you two are a rather nice fit and it’s not the same way anymore,” he explained, hoping that Hugh might understand how much he meant everything he said. “No one can be expected to have the feelings they did back then, not entirely.”

Smirking, Hugh nodded in agreement before saying, “And yet you do.”

“What?”

“Wondering about Sebastian. You still have feelings for him.”

Sputtering in shock, John frantically shook his head because Hugh was wrong. Couldn’t have been more wrong, actually, even though it took him a good moment before the words came to him. Taking a deep breath, he held up a finger, telling him, “I never had feelings for him to begin with.”

“Are you saying that I remember that part wrong?” Hugh questioned in a knowing tone.

Which was something John actually didn’t have to put up with, he remembered rather belatedly. Rising to his feet, he gestured to the door. “I have other people I should see and you should be off. So, goodbye and be safe.”

“Of course.” Sliding off the table, Hugh nodded at John before making his way over to the door. Resting his hand on the knob, he paused before looking back at him. “And, John, if you do go after him, be gentle. It’s only been a few months since his boyfriend died and I’d hate for the company to turn on you because of how you treated our king.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Yes,” he stated bluntly. Flashing a smile, he gave a half-hearted salute as he made his way out, calling out behind him, “Good day.”

Scoffing, John had his doubts that he’d have such luck. It took all he had in him to focus on his other patients throughout the day with Hugh’s casual threat floating through his mind. He understood it well enough, given that they had always been a protective lot, but he remembered them being rather protective of him, not their fearless and stubborn leader. To suddenly find himself walking the fine line between friend and foe for even one of them was just odd. Not to mention, he was certain that there were others who likely felt the same way.

And there was also the fact that no one seemed to consider the fact that he hadn’t made any move for Sebastian in the first place, something John felt needed a great deal of consideration. They weren’t the same people and even if John did occasionally have a strange feeling in his gut when he let his mind wander to his stalker or when he found himself in Sebastian’s presence, that didn’t actually mean anything other than his mind was a warped and vile thing.

Thankfully the day seemed to pass by with relative ease, his mild distraction from his actual failing to lead to anyone’s death. Leaving, he had already set his mind on crawling into his bed and trying to forget all about his chat with Hugh or anything involving Sebastian Moran when the last person he wanted to deal with called out to him.

“That man who came to see you today—“

“Hugh,” John stated, as he came to a stop, idly wondering how long the black car had been parked outside as Mycroft leaned against the wall of the building.

Giving a brief nod of acknowledgement, Mycroft continued on heedlessly, asking, “How well do you know him?”

It was the sort of question that he knew should make him nervous given that Mycroft didn’t just turn up without reason and certainly didn’t take interest in the odd person. If anything it was a sign that perhaps Hugh wasn’t to be trusted and that Sebastian hadn’t been joking when he said the man worked for Five. But even if that was the case, he wasn’t the pawn of Mycroft Holmes and no longer had any reason to answer to him.

So, crossing his arms over his chest, John shrugged and told him, “Well enough to know I don’t have to tell you anything without you explaining how you know him and why you care?”

“Hugo Oberstein is an interesting and smart man,” Mycroft said, obviously not giving up anything more than that.

“He has boyfriend,” John said sarcastically.

“I know.” Licking his lips, Mycroft furrowed his brows in thought as he tapped his finger along the handle of his umbrella. “His name is Arthur Walter. Has a brother who can be a bit of a recluse, but he’s an invaluable resource, I find. Not so much with Arthur, though he has a good heart.”

Smiling a bit bitterly to himself, John did the only thing he could do and nodded. After all, he had only recently found out Hugh’s full name and that was only because it was on a bloody chart. He didn’t really know anything about the people who used to be his friends, although that seemed to be an on-going theme in his life, he realized as he glared at Mycroft.

“So you know my friends and yet you couldn’t tell me anything about my stalker?”

“I could tell you that you should’ve never confronted him and that I never got back in touch with you because by time I had returned to the country you had apparently made friends with him,” he said, giving John a look that clearly meant he was an idiot.

Definitely not something John wasn’t aware of given that, even though he was annoyed with everything about Mycroft Holmes, the man was right. Hell, the fact that he still had Sebastian’s number saved to his mobile meant that he clearly wasn’t all that well. But it wasn’t as though he could simply tell Mycroft that, not without a great deal of explanation that would only do more harm than good.

Clearing his throat, John looked away from Mycroft’s scrutinizing gaze and told him, “He knew about you. Well, he knows who you are.”

“I should hope so. We’ve met a few times now.”

Chuckling a bit hollowly, John felt at a loss for what it was he was honestly meant to say to such a thing. Turning back toward Mycroft, he opened his mouth, only to let out a tired sigh. “Nice to know,” he finally managed to force out. “But since I don’t need you any more, we have no reason to talk.”

Making to leave, John clenched his fists at his sides when he found himself stopped by the umbrella blocking his path. Looking back at Mycroft, John spared a quick glance at the black car and the familiar face watching him from it, trying to decide it might just be worth his troubles to actually hit the man.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Mycroft questioned in his usual bored tone. “After all, what exactly is it that you know about Sebastian that makes you trust him?”

“I know where he lives, who he is and that he served in the Army.” Racking his mind for something else he could say about Sebastian, instead of the dwarf he knew the man to once be, John could only hold up his hands in defeat as he said, “I don’t need more than that.”

“Are you certain? I find a man’s history tends to say a lot about him.”

“It says where he’s been and that’s it,” he said with a small chuckle.

Narrowing his eyes, a wan smile on his lips, Mycroft said, “And Sebastian has been around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John questioned, hating himself as he did.

Yet, it wasn’t as though Sebastian had given him any real information about himself. No, the man seemed to have a wealth of information on him while intentionally leaving John in the dark. So, while didn’t feel a whole lot better than a stalker getting information from Mycroft rather than ask him, John could at least be certain that Mycroft had fewer reasons to lie to him.

“He’s the only child of Augustus Moran, CB, and knows of nothing but privilege. His father was an ambassador, which explains Sebastian’s talent with languages. Fond of hunting, it would seem as the man is as good a shot as he is a writer,” Mycroft explained casually, eyes watching John carefully for his every reaction. “Educated at Eton and Oxford, he chose to go into the army rather than follow in his family’s footsteps of politics. He was one of the youngest colonels to serve before his honourable discharge amid… less favourable insinuations in Afghanistan. Still, he is a decorated and high ranking officer and maintains a quiet, respectable life alone in that flat of his.”

“So he’s the most perfect human being to ever walk the Earth?” John asked, a bit sarcastically.

“That or there’s a very large fatal flaw to his character. After all, just because he wasn’t forced out doesn’t mean that someone wasn’t holding the door for him when he left the Army,” Mycroft said, completely overlooking the cheekiness in the other’s voice.

“It was an honourable discharge.”

“True. Very true. And yet—“

“Yet nothing,” John stated harshly. Clenching his jaw in an effort not to let his anger get the better of him, he decided that he was done with their conversation. With a heavy breath, he tried to ease the tension he felt as he told Mycroft, “Look, why are you telling me this? I’ve met Sebastian and I’ve decided that I like him just fine. Yes, he’s a creepy stalker, but he’s also a nice guy.”

“And why was he stalking you?”

“He’s a fan of the blog,” he snapped. “Anything else?”

Whether Mycroft was stunned by John’s sudden change in behaviour or uninterested was a mystery only he knew as he gently swung his umbrella back and forth. Seconds of nothing more than his blank stare passed by before he finally spoke again. “No. Just remember to be cautious in future and I think that we may have no problem.”

“Thanks for that. Kindly piss off now?”

“I’m not your enemy, you know,” Mycroft said softly, his usual aloof demeanour fading into a look of actual concern. Taking a step closer to him, he added, “And while we may not be friends, I do worry about you.”

“Lot of good that did Sherlock in the end,” he said, giving a casual shrug as he did.

Wincing slightly at those words, Mycroft forced a brief smile as he stepped back. And in the moment it took for John’s guilt to settle for making such a comment, an apology already on the tip of his tongue, Mycroft’s ever calm demeanour was back in place

 “I suppose you’ll be off then,” he said, gesturing for John to leave.

Looking at him suspiciously, John did as he was told, not entirely certain that he hadn’t just managed to piss the man off. Because, while it was Mycroft, a man who definitely needed to be taken down a peg or two in life from John’s point of view, he could only imagine how the man felt to have his brother’s demise thrown in his face like that when John felt like shite for being the one to do it.

Still, with everything that had managed to happen to him that day, going home seemed like the best idea. At least in the comfort of his flat, he could try and decipher what it was he figured he was meant to feel about his little visits with Mycroft and Hugh.


	7. Chapter 7

“Decided that reading outside my front door was just the hip thing to do today?” Sebastian questioned as he stared down at John.

Looking at the shorts clad legs, John slowly lifted his gaze to stare at the man he’d been waiting hours for. From the looks of him, it seemed as though he might’ve have just gotten back from a run or something of that nature, completely unbothered by the sweat dripping from his hair. Quite unlike John who gave him a distasteful look before turning his attention back to the page he’d been reading. Dog earring the page of the book once he was done with the page, John rose to his feet and dusted himself off.

“Been waiting for you to turn up,” he said, gesturing at him with the book.

Watching the book in John’s hand curiously, Sebastian gave him a cursory look before moving toward the door. “That doesn’t sound good,” Sebastian remarked, as he searched through his keys. Unlocking the door as soon as he found the right one, he opened the door, holding it open for John to go in first like a gentleman.

If he was even the slightest bit concerned about just why it was John was waiting around for his return, he didn’t question it. Instead, he merely followed John inside and busied himself with putting away his keys and taking off his trainers while John sat down on the sofa, watching him carefully.

Finally walking over to the sofa, Sebastian furrowed his brows as he stood there. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

“Wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“You just got back in,” John said, nodding at the seat next to him for Sebastian to sit down.

Frowning, Sebastian shook his head before flashing a terse smile. “I insist. I couldn’t live with myself if I wasn’t a good host,” he said before making his way to the kitchen.

Gripping the book in his hand tightly, John was sorely tempted to chuck it at the man. Taking a deep breath, though, he placed the book to his side before leaning back. Staring at the ceiling, he called out, “You know, I got a visit from a mutual friend of ours.”

“Yeah? I heard about Hugh visiting you,” Sebastian called back, chuckling slightly in the process. “He’s still just as protective of Arthur as he always was. As for the threatening, well, I guess he’s a bit protective of me too.”

Which was something he should’ve expected, that Hugh or Arthur or any of the others would tell Sebastian about the little meet they had. The entire lot of them were worse when it came to gossiping than a group of old women could ever be. Nothing was secret for long, as John was quickly relearning and he was certain that when he wasn’t the focus, he might even find reason to think it amusing.

As it was, sitting around Sebastian’s flat, he just shook his head to himself and said, “It’s not a problem, although I didn’t mean that particular friend.”

“Arthur visit you as well? Dale, perhaps?” he questioned, sounding a great deal more confused by something happening amongst the company that he didn’t know about.

“Think older, taller and in control of the British government.”

“Ah,” he said once it dawned on him. “Mycroft.”

John nodded silently, even though Sebastian couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Mycroft.”

Going silent after that, Sebastian continued to putter about the kitchen, as far as John could tell. The only sounds in the flat were that of the pantry doors being shut. Shifting in his seat, he glanced at his book, half tempted to start reading. Brushing his finger over the raised title on the cover, he glanced at the kitchen just in time to see Sebastian make his way out of it holding a tray of tea.

Putting it down on the table, Sebastian placed a cup in front of John before filling it with tea. Adding a dash of milk to it, John watched Sebastian sat down on the sofa next to him before pouring his own cup of tea. “Nice tea set. Get that during one of your little trips abroad?”

“My mum bought it for me. Don’t have the foggiest idea as to where she bought it, but it’s a bit nice,” he said, before taking a sip of his tea. Eyes focused on John as he took a sip of his own tea, he asked, “Is the tea to your liking?”

Looking down at his glass, John took another sip before placing it down with a shake of his head. “It’s a bit… watery? Bland? But other than that, it’s fine.”

Smiling tersely at that, Sebastian carefully sipped at his own tea, that ever annoying silence falling over them again as the man took his time. Looking around, a bit angrily, John opened his mouth to speak, only to have Sebastian finally place his cup aside.

“So, Mycroft visited you,” Sebastian stated casually. Furrowing his brows, he gave John a confused look as he asked, “How’s his diet going?”

“Huh?” he questioned, voice sounding panicky to his own ears.

The only good thing was that he had decided to forgo his tea as he was certain it would’ve been soaking into Sebastian’s floor amongst a chipped or broken tea cup if he’d been holding it. Stomach tightening painfully, John forced himself to breathe calmly and remember that other people allowed to question about Mycroft and his dieting habits in that falsely polite tone he could only remember Sherlock using. There was no real reason for his heart to want to stop at the unwanted memory or for him to be staring at Sebastian as though he’d transformed into some hideous monster before him.

Not that Sebastian was even the least bit put off by John’s behaviour. Instead, he just watched John like he had been before, hands resting in his lap as he shrugged the entire thing off as though it was nothing as he explained himself. “He’d lost weight last I saw him. I assumed diet rather than stress or a liquid lunch.”

And while it made sense, John still found himself downing the rest of his tea, wincing at the way it burned his tongue before shaking his head. “Yeah, not really here to talk about his eating habits. I really wanted to tell you what I talked about with him.”

“The weather?”

“You,” he stated bluntly. “Talked a lot about you, actually. Made me realize, I don’t know a bloody thing about you.”

“And I’m certain he corrected that, judging by that book you were reading.”

Gripping it protectively, as though Sebastian would actually care to take it away from him, John nodded. “It’s a nice book that, _Three Months in the Jungle_. The bit about the tiger seems a bit much, but I guess every book needs a bit of embellishment, yeah?”

“More or less.” Leaning back, Sebastian looked more than a bit unimpressed, as though the idea of people talking about him was no big deal. Where most would’ve at least been a bit concerned, he acted as though it was an everyday occurrence. “So, I’m going to assume that you read the other book, heavy _Game of the Western Himalayas_. Even the title on that is boring. But, never the less, you now know I write, probably a bit about my past and you’re upset for some stupid reason.”

“Some stupid reason?” John questioned in disbelief. If ever he doubted that Sebastian could be Thorin, he knew he’d been wrong before. John didn’t honestly think there could be a more callous, uninterested man in the world in any time than Thorin, regardless of his incarnation. Scoffing, he shook his head to himself as he asked, “How about the fact that you know all about me after stalking me for God knows how long and yet I have to find out things about you from Mycroft.”

“Am I meant to feel bad for that?”

“Just a bit, yeah.”

“Why?” Sebastian asked, completely genuine with his question. “We’ve met three times, one of which you had a gun pointed at me.”

“After you had a rifle pointed at my flat,” John reminded him angrily.

“It wasn’t loaded. I was using the scope. Great scope on that gun.”

“Not comforting after having you watch me for weeks on end, because, bit of hint, kind of noticed you doing that after a while.”

Waving off the statement as though it meant nothing in the midst of their argument, Sebastian continued on, speaking in a matter of fact tone as he said, “The second time we met, you were meeting someone else so there wasn’t much talking and the last time everyone wanted to speak to you, so I didn’t bother.”

“A likely excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse,” the ex-colonel sneered.  Taking a deep breath, he let it out with a small roll of his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you, John. You’re the one with my number after all. If you wanted to know anything or see me, you could’ve called like anyone else.”

Which seemed like a fair enough statement, but John didn’t care for fair or logic. It was a blade that certain cut both ways since the same could’ve been said for Sebastian. That the man could’ve just talked to him one day instead of constantly lingering at the fringes of John’s life like the stalker he was. Certainly, he didn’t think that he warranted the kind of distrustful caution that still seemed to linger within the other man.

Of course, John didn’t point that out. Instead, he tapped his fingers on the book that, staring at Sebastian’s name neatly type on the front before looking at the man himself. Eyes narrowed challengingly, he asked, “So you’re just an open book, is that it?”

“If you’ve got questions, ask away,” Sebastian said, chin rising slightly as though daring John to do his worst.

And John was more than willing to ask away if only to know just how honest Sebastian was willing to be. “Why were you discharged?”

“There was a mission, people died. Very much expected in the midst of war, but I… I didn’t take it well,” Sebastian said, almost muttering the last part as he frowned at the memory. Clearing his throat, he busied himself refilling both their cups as he continued, telling him, “Still, I soldiered on until I rather snapped and was deemed unfit to serve.”

“So you’re mental?” John asked, purposefully being as crass as possible.

Smiling, Sebastian let out a small chuckle. “No more than you. Or are we still pretending that I don’t know you see a therapist about twice a month?”

“I lost someone.”

“Sherlock Holmes, I know. My turn to ask a question now.” Leaning forward, arm resting on his thigh, Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him. “Were you and him a couple?”

“What?” John asked, completely caught off guard by the question.

Sebastian didn’t back down in the slightest, still searching John for something as he told him, “Well the papers always said as much and it’s not fair to let you do all the asking.”

“No,” he said softly. Brows knitting together, John clenched his jaw as he tried to hide how much that answer hurt him. He wasn’t there to talk about Sherlock, after all. He was there to find out about Sebastian and nothing else. So, bitterly, he added, “We were flatmates, or can two men not live together without shagging?”

“I don’t know. Last bloke I lived with, I was shagging.”

“How’d you meet the rest of the company?” John questioned, decidedly not getting sucked into asking about anything except for what wanted to know. “Post an advert in the paper?”

“James is an army mate. Most of the others I just met through friends and associates and the sort. Or did you want me to go through every first meeting with each of them?”

Biting his tongue to keep from snapping at the man, John tried to convince himself to stay calm. If he could simply stay calm in the face of Sebastian’s flippant comments, he could find out if Mycroft said was true and perhaps cut both men out of his life since he wasn’t all that fond of being caught off guard by either of them.

“And that’s it? Just stumbled upon all of them?” He asked after he was certain that he wasn’t going to say something he might regret.

“More or less. Were you and Sherlock in love?”

“I thought I told you we weren’t a couple,” he said a bit peevishly.

Cocking his head to the side, Sebastian simply asked, “What does that have to do with being in love? I’m not dating James or Perry or Arthur or any of them, but I love them all as though they were my own family and I’d do anything for them. So, did you love him?”

Heart racing in his chest, John glared at him for a long moment, hating him simply for the question he had asked. Curiosity or not, it crossed a line John knew Sebastian had to know about. There was no way someone could’ve watch him before his meeting of the former colonel without knowing that the last thing John ever really wanted to talk about was Sherlock. But if that’s how Sebastian wanted to go about things, it was more than fine with John. Looking away, he clenched his hands at his side as he tried to find the will to speak.

“He was my best friend, of course I loved him. I loved him more than I’ve probably ever loved anyone ever, but once again, me loving someone ended with me watching them die,” he said, giving Sebastian a pointed look.

Rubbing at the side of his nose, Sebastian looked away, no longer able to meet John’s gaze. It didn’t matter that he didn’t try to speak, to make some sort of pithy comment, John was certain by the look in Sebastian’s eyes that he remembered the end of the hellish battle quite clearly.

Emboldened by the hurt look on Sebastian’s face, John asked, “How about you? How’d that boyfriend of your kick the bucket?”

Tensing, Sebastian whipped his head back toward John. Eyes wide and lips parted in shock, the man merely stared at him for a long moment as though he had forget how to speak before saying in a strangely quiet voice, “He shot himself.”

“What?”

“Exactly what I said,” Sebastian barked, much louder the second time around. “One morning after a lovely night together, he told me he was heading out early and that we’d meet up later. Only when later came around he had shot himself. No one was expecting it, he showed no signs of being suicidal. He’d just been a bit upset in the days prior, but no one thought much of it. And then he was dead.”

“I… I didn’t know.”

“Of course not. The guys will admit that he died, but they know that mentioning how isn’t something anyone wants to hear brought up, especially me, because the lot of them knew him and liked him,” he said, his words coming out harsher the more he talked. “I loved him more than I could ever describe and we got this flat together, but now he’s gone and I’m here. You understand that right?”

“Christ,” John muttered, grossly regretting even asking the question. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know what he was doing, asking the question just to hurt Sebastian. To bring out the same reaction that talking of orcs brought out in Thorin. But faced with exactly what he wanted and the pained look on Sebastian’s face that belied his harsh tone, he wished he had just let it go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that. I just—“

“He had an open casket funeral,” Sebastian continued, a sad smile on his lips as he spoke. “His mum said he looked like a sleeping angel. Course, she never saw the wreck that was the back of his head. Blew half his brain out, I think. I know that because I identified the body because I thought it would bring closure. Just made me a bit sick really.”

“Sebastian, stop it. I get it,” John demanded.

“You sure? No other question you’d like to throw out without thinking through just how I may feel about it? Any more emotional scars you’d like to pick at? Because I’ve this dream I have of losing my family from back then. There’s one battle where I lost my grandfather, father and brother. Could talk about that,” he offered, voice still steady despite the look in his eyes that made John glad looks couldn’t kill.

Shaking his head, John rubbed a hand over his face before telling him, “No. Look, I’m… Sorry. I didn’t mean to drudge up anything unpleasant.”

“You didn’t mean to bring up something unpleasant by asking about how my last boyfriend died?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do and I just want you to know that no matter how utterly horrible something was or is in my life, I’d happily tell you because, while we may be strangers at the moment, I’d still trust you with my life and my secrets. It’s why I sought you out.”

John shifted uncomfortably at that, feeling all the worst with the idea that Sebastian was so perfectly willing to accept him into his life. He hadn’t needed to seek John out and didn’t really have much of a reason to even want him back in his life as John was certain he was even more useless as he was now than he had been as a hobbit. Sebastian had only wanted to get to know him and yet whenever they were alone nothing seemed to go right.

“You know, I rather think I should be heading out.” Getting up, John started to walk toward the door, only to stop. Turning back toward Sebastian, he opened his mouth only to let out a sigh.  Shaking his head as he muttered a few swears to himself. “It was… Talking to you was… what it was.”

“You don’t have to go,” Sebastian said, gesturing for John to sit back down.

“I really do.”

Grabbing a hold of John’s wrist when he made to leave again, he told him, “The lads and I are getting together for a few drinks later in the week. Your presence would be greatly enjoyed by all of us.”

“We’ll see,” John said, knowing he wouldn’t go.

How could he when he had just callously thrown a man’s dead lover in his face just because he didn’t like a few questions about Sherlock? Not to say that he didn’t still think Sebastian a right bastard for doing that, but stooping to his level didn’t help. If anything, it seemed as though the best thing would’ve been to just slip out of the man’s life before they got too used to each other.

Frowning, Sebastian said, “I rather feel you owe me, what with rude questioning.”

“You really going to guilt me into getting a drink with you?” John asked incredulously.

“Only if it works.”

“I should be going,” he said, gently slipping his wrist out of Sebastian’s grip. Walking toward the door, he stopped again when he remembered the book he was leaving behind. Looking at it, sitting on the sofa next to Sebastian, he waved it off. “Keep the book and… The tea was lovely.”

“I know. I made it,” Sebastian said cheekily. A comment designed to make things a bit less tense between.

Maybe if John had been willing to stay, it might have. As it was, he only paused once more before rushing out to look at the man a bit sadly as he told him, “Bye Sebastian.”

Being out of each other's lives would be the best, John tried to convince himself as he left as quickly as he could. They hadn't gotten all that well in the beginning and certainly things hadn't ended well in the end. There was no need to repeat that just because the middle part made John want to turn around and go apologize for everything. He was sparing them both in the long run since they couldn't live pining over the odd dream, even if John found himself mentally debating whether or not he wanted to have a drink with a group of rowdy former dwarves just one last time for the sake of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long. And a bit crap. I'll do better next time. Sorry.

He only went to the pub as a farewell act before cutting all his new friends out of his life, as that was the only real solution to his Sebastian problem. If he didn’t want anything to do with the former dwarf king, that was his right, but John didn’t feel as though the same applied to causing any sort of rift between Sebastian and the rest of the company. They hardly even knew him and he definitely didn’t much about any of them, so it should’ve been easy. There would be no hard feelings, except for those he felt toward Sebastian since, while he knew it was wrong to throw his recent loss in his face, the man’s questions about Sherlock crossed a line that John wanted to let go and couldn’t.

And yet as soon as he had entered the pub, he found himself greeted rather cheerfully by Scott, arms flung around him in a fierce hug that could only ever be achieved by Bombur, as Arthur rushed over to join in. Whether or not they knew John Watson all that well, memories of Bilbo Baggins seemed enough to garner their unwavering affects, something he learned as he was plied with a seemingly endless amount of liquor over the night. Far more than he would’ve normally drank on a night out with mates, but they were an excitedly affectionate lot and he was in a mood to drink whatever was handed to him as he tried to keep a good distance between himself and Sebastian. It was how he found himself sitting at a table with Hugh, Arthur and Leslie while Sebastian lingered elsewhere.

“And it’s actually quite hilarious because we’re completely lost,” Arthur chuckled, elbows resting on the table as he leaned forward. With Hugh leaning back in his seat next to him, arm resting on the back of the man’s chair as he watched him, an amused grin on his face, it felt as though no time had passed for them. “And I’m trying rather hard to find our way around because, well, for pity’s sake, we’re lost in the middle of nowhere.”

“Because of you,” Hugh said, trying to look upset as he did, though the affectionate tone to his voice ruined any hopes od it working.

Looking over at him, Arthur gave another chuckle before turning back to the lot of them, momentarily confused as he tried to remember where he had left off. Perking up when it dawned on him said, “Anyways, we’re wandering and lost and in a different country. Uh… America or France. One of those countries.”

“There’s a great deal difference between the two,” James called out teasingly from where he lingered by the bar with Perry, Sebastian and Hilton.

John did his best to hide his laughter at the look of confusion on Arthur’s face as he turned to glare at him. Poor guy likely didn’t realize that he was being far too loud and that the whole place could hear him. Thankfully, the other people seemed just as amused by Arthur as the rest of them, so no one seemed to say much about it and when Arthur turned back to their group, he didn’t seem too bothered by the interruption either.

“Anyways… Oh, now I’ve gone and forgotten my place again.”

“We were lost in France, I believe, wandering about because you let our map get blown away,” Hugh offered helpfully.

Ducking his head at that, Arthur nodded in agreement. “There were strong winds, mind you. But we’re there and then out of nowhere we’re stumbling upon this apple orchard of all things. And me, I’m annoyed, but willing to continue, but Hugh here turns around and starts walking back the way we came and when I ask him what he’s playing at he tells me—“

“I’d rather die wandering than have to walk through a bloody apple orchard,” he said, shaking his head as he recalled the moment. “I fucking hate apples.”

“Still?” John asks, hardly hiding his own amusement at the story, given that he remembered quite clearly the barrel ride out of some darkened forest.

It was probably the funniest rescue he could’ve ever imagined, aside from giving trolls tips on how to properly season a dwarf. Helping the lot of them out of the barrels , each and every one of them looking worse for wear and Fili’s complaints about how he would never touch another apple again was. The fact that he had managed to hold on to such a promise was nothing if not impressive.

Nodding so eagerly that John was certain he might hurt himself, Arthur told him, “Still. For the longest time he didn’t even know why, which just made it all the more amusing for me. Granted, I’m not that fond of them either, but Hugh here?”

“I’d rather die than eat an apple. The smell of them is enough to make me feel sick”

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” Leslie said teasingly, although there may have been some hidden meaning behind it as he gave Hugh a pointed look.

Scoffing, Hugh just forced himself up on rather steady feet considering how much he’d drank and placed a heavy hand on John’s shoulder as he stared back at Leslie. “And why should I like to keep our dear, Master Boggins away? He’s a rather fine one. Far more bedside manner than you’ve ever had.”

Unbothered by such a claim of the way that John ducked his head at such a compliment, Leslie raised his glass toward Hugh and said, “Well then you can just as well bother him the next time you’re hurt or needing some sort of pill.”

“No. He doesn’t listen to me. I’m more than certain he didn’t even talk to you about the stiffness around that bruise,” John said, knowing his words to be true the moment Hugh shoved him, albeit playfully.

“Stiffness?”

“Around that bruise on his stomach.”

“You said you were fine, Hugo,” Arthur complained, as he seemed further out of the loop than Leslie was.

“What happened to confidentiality?” Hugh questioned as he took his seat next to Arthur again. Pulling the younger man closer to him, he pressed his forehead to Arthur’s in a gesture John was surprised to see still maintained amongst the men. Turning to face the other doctor in the group, Hugh said, “And really, if you want to play doctor, Les, I’ll come around tomorrow and you can give me the full once over.”

“I should think you will as Arthur will be the one bringing you,” Leslie said, something Arthur agreed to readily. “So why don’t you stop drinking and get going, the both of you.”

“I feel that’s advice we can all take,” Hilton remarked from the bar as he put on his coat.

Pulling out his mobile, John stared at the screen for a long moment, trying to make sense of the numbers there. When they finally did, he was rather surprised to see just how late it had gotten without him even noticing. With all the drinks and silly tales, it was easy to see how the time might’ve escaped him like it did.

Although his actions certainly didn’t seem to escape Hugh, who merely chuckled as he helped Arthur to stand up, keeping his arm slung around the other man’s waist. “I think our hobbit friend may be in need of assistance getting home.”

“I’m fine, really,” he insisted, even though he knew Hugh to be right.

If anything, John had likely let the good spirits of the group and the free liquor get the better of him, as just the idea of standing seemed to be a lot more than he thought himself capable of. Still, he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, especially since this was supposed to be the last time he saw them, something that grew significantly harder to do when a person knew where he lived.

Of course, Hugh simply gave him a disbelieving look and told him, “You’re pissed and someone is seeing you home. Now, who wants to help out our little hobbit?”

“I’ll take the halfling home,” Sebastian said before anyone else got the chance. Quickly finishing off the last of his drink, he rose to his feet and stared at John. “It’ll give us a chance to talk for once this evening.”

“Really, that’s not necessary,” John said in a rush. The last person he wanted helping him out was Sebastian to start with. The thought that the man intended to talk to him about anything only made him more leery of the situation.

Thankfully, James found fault in the logic as well as he told Sebastian, “You’re not looking all that steady either and the point is to have a fairly sober person bring him home.”

“I’ll call a cab and we’ll share. Do not question me about this.”

“I’m questioning you,” John offered up, not that anyone seemed to notice.

In fact, for the most part, all eyes were on Sebastian and James, who gave into the other man rather easily. “Fine. Take him home. Just be sure to get both him and yourself home safely.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” John asked a bit louder than he had intended. After all, while he wanted to voice his complaints, he didn’t quite like the way everyone was suddenly watching him. Clearing his throat, nevertheless, he managed to keep talking. “I mean, I can catch a cab home myself easily.”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Sebastian supplied readily.

Something John was about to argue since he wasn’t a child or someone who couldn’t defend himself against the cruelty of the world. If anything, he was oddly adept at doing just that after the army and living with Sherlock.

Of course, before he could, Perry was placing an arm around Sebastian’s shoulders, agreeing with his friend. “Exactly. We need someone to make sure poor Seb here doesn’t get taken advantaged. After all, it’s a dark night and unscrupulous people are about.”

“I plan on getting taken advantage of,” Arthur said, in what had to pass for a murmur to his drunken mind. “It’s not all that bad, really.”

Snickering, Hugh pressed a finger to his boyfriend’s lips, saying, “I think we may heading out now. John, I could get you home safely, if you’d like. All of us who are able would be willing.”

Looking over them all, John thought of saying yes. Of just leaving with one of the other’s and taking the risk of one more person knowing just where it was he lived. It wasn’t as though he felt particularly worried they might do something to him, merely that he’d have one more person, if not more, trying to check in on him from time to time. Especially when he eventually decided to avoid them all.

At the very least, letting Sebastian take him home meant that nothing would actually change. He might get into another fight with the guy and, with all the alcohol in his system, he didn’t feel he could be held responsible for any action that might lead to, but at least he knew where he stood. If nothing else, he knew he couldn’t trust Sebastian well enough to actually trust him for the night.

So, with shaky legs, he stood up, waving his hand slightly so as to not knock himself over as he turned them down. “No. No. Sebastian’s fine. Although, if you want to help me home, you’ll be helping me out as well.”

Nodding, Sebastian walked over to him and slung a heavy arm around his shoulders, holding John close to him as he focused on the rest of the company. “Well, now that we have the settled, I think we can all be leaving.”

And without much more than some loudly called out farewells, everyone seemed to go their separate ways, the majority of them leaving with those that they used to call their family. It was rather quaint to think about for John as he stood next Sebastian, leaning heavily against him as he hailed a cab since, even if didn’t need that much support, the man was warm and, on a cold night, it was hard to resist.

Thankfully the cab was quick to arrive and, once it did, John wasted little time in getting inside, sitting as close to the opposite door to create as much distance between himself and Sebastian. He simply stared out the window, gazing at nothing in particular as Sebastian talked to the cabbie. Watching the city go by, in a rather dull haze of street lights and the odd car, he probably would’ve missed Sebastian ever speaking to him if not for the hand suddenly on his thigh.

“You were quite rude to me the last time we met.”

Chuckling to himself, John slowly looked away from the city to Sebastian and nodded. “You were being an arse.”

“I was simply asking questions.”

“No. You weren’t. But, unlike you, I actually do feel bad for what I said. It was uncalled for, sinking to your level.”

Removing his hand, Sebastian leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “You’re right. I don’t feel bad. I wanted to know something, so I asked.”

“You asked in the worst way possible,” John said angrily, remembering all too well the lack of tact involved in the conversation. “And even worse, you did it out of spite. I mean, I come around looking to learn about you and—“

“You came around after having Mycroft look into me.”

“You were stalking me, you obnoxious shite. What did you honestly expect me to do?”

The man didn’t even seem bothered as he shrugged, unsure of what it was he expected. Even if he was angry with him, John knew what he was feeling since he certainly didn’t know what it was he expected of Sebastian either. He sat there calmly, eyes staring straight ahead, almost as if he was ignoring John.

Pursing his lips, Sebastian eventually looked at him a bit searching as he shook his head. “Well, I’m happy you showed up tonight.”

“It’s not happening again,” John said as he looked away from him. “So if that’s all you want to chat about, I want you out of my life. And I mean it this time. Don’t bother me or else.”

Failing to say anything at that, John could only assume that Sebastian was giving his silent agreement. The rest of the ride was carried out in complete silence from the two of them and if the cabbie hadn’t arrived at 221B as quickly as it had, he was certain he would’ve fallen asleep from it.

Still, John wasted no time getting out of the car, making his way to the door. Yet the sound of voices talking behind him as he tried to unlock the door made him stop. Tensing up when he felt a hand over his own, he turned to look at the person, mildly surprised to find Sebastian at his side.

“Pretty sure this isn’t your flat,” he said, glancing at the hand on his expectantly.

Guiding John’s hand, he helped get the key in the hole steadily enough to unlock and open it. “I wanted to see you home because I’m sorry. I don’t regret my questions because I was curious, but I am sorry I upset you.”

Which might’ve made sense to Sebastian. Hell, it might’ve even made sense to himself if he was a little less drunk, but John wasn’t. So, walking inside, he leaned back against the wall near the stairs, gesturing for Sebastian to enter the flat as well. Looking over at him with a heavy sigh, he wasn’t sure what he was meant to do with the slouching soldier standing the hallway watching him.

Rubbing a hand over his face, John said, “So what? You didn’t mean to make me feel bad, you just wanted to know if I was in love with a dead guy too?”

Giving a brief smile at the question, Sebastian nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Been reading too many papers? Couldn’t figure that out by watching you? I wanted to know if I’d have a chance? Take your pick.” Sebastian said casually.

Of course, John wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t pick up on the last bit of that statement. Furrowing his brows, he asked, “A chance at what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, no, no. You’ve got to tell.” Walking over to Sebastian, he stared up at the man, a knowing smirk on his lips as he asked, “A chance at what?”

And maybe he was just a bit drunk, but watching as Sebastian shifted from side to side, his eyes briefly locked on Mrs. Hudson’s door before he found it in him to look at John directly, saying, “I like you. School yard crush, want to do very grown up things with you, kind of like. Happy?”

“What about that boyfriend you lost? The one you loved?” He asked rather pointedly.

“I still love him. I always will probably, but… I loved you once upon a time as well and… That’s a lot harder to ignore than you’d think.”

“Probably really isn’t.”

The stark clarity with which he remembered and felt everything in his dreams was nothing more than a double edged sword. The beauty of every happy moment being felt as though it was actually happening to him again was often outweighed by the pain of loss that hurt like an open wound being reopened and made worse.

Looking off at the door, Sebastian frowned to himself before turning back towards John. “Well, either way, I simply wanted to apologize. I’ll be staying out of your life now.”

“Wait,” John cried out as Sebastian made to leave. “You can’t just… You can’t say you like me and then leave.”

“You told me to stay out of your life after tonight.”

“So that’s it? Confess your like of me and then leave?”

“Look, over the years I’ve gotten rather good at watching people,” Sebastian said, watching John even as he kept his hand on the door knob. “I do know about you and I know… Maybe you’re right. We’re not who we were back then and just by knowing each other, one of us is bound to get hurt in the long run.”

“Right. So now you’re trying to protect me,” John scoffed.

Laughing derisively at the comment, Sebastian shook his head. “Hardly. I’m protecting me. I may put myself in some stupid situations in life, but I refuse to suffer through some unrequited crush.”

Standing up a bit straighter, John moved closer to him again, eyes locked on his as he asked a question he would most certainly blame on the liquor in his system later. “How would you know if you don’t ask me how I feel?”

It was easy to see Sebastian’s mind go back and forth as he tried to come to some sort of decision on the matter. Eyes narrowed, he took a deep breath and with great reluctance asked, “Do you like me?”

“Not even a little,” John stated without hesitation.

Letting out an annoyed growl, Sebastian shook his head angrily as he made to open the door. Yet when John placed his hand over the other man’s, he stopped, shoulders tense as he stood there in waiting.

“I don’t like you at all. You’re still you. You’re that self-absorbed dwarf who thinks everything should go his way. You’re a bastard, rude and think normal rules don’t apply to you.”

“Is there a point to this?” Sebastian questioned through gritted.

Blinking as he tried to remember what his point had been, John nodded slowly. “Yeah. See, you’re an obnoxious git, but apparently, I have a thing for obnoxious gits with dark hair and blue eyes.”

Hand falling from the door knob, Sebastian turned toward him again, cautious as ever as he searched John for some hint of a lie. “What are you saying, John?”

It was a good question that John knew he didn’t have the answer to. Despite any and all feelings he had for Thorin, he pretty much hated Sebastian. Perhaps one, or both of them, had simply changed too much for them to be anything more than mildly civil with each other. The best plan, it seemed, was to just let him leave and officially call anything between them over.

The fact that John found himself pulling the man into a fierce kiss didn’t really achieve any of that, but it felt good. Felt better than good when Sebastian kissed back just as roughly. Slick tongues quickly joined the battle of lips, scraping against sharp teeth in the process. It hurt in a way that made John lean closer as Sebastian’s stubble stung at his skin, the lines of reality rapidly blurring.

There were feelings emerging in him that didn’t make sense, desperation getting the better of him as he gripped at Sebastian’s jacket. The onslaught of his feelings from another time and another life overwhelming him. Turning his head with a choked off gasp, he found himself shaking his head furiously, eyes shut tightly as he did. “You can’t leave. Not now,” he said, his voice almost unfamiliar to his own ears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sebastian replied. Gently forcing John to look up at him, he stared into his eyes, his own looking a bit pleading as he said, “I’m at your service.”

Nodding, John captured Sebastian’s lips again, all his anger toward the man dead at the feet of the feeling of longing. Even if he had only known the man before him for a few weeks, it did nothing to lessen the feeling that he’d been waiting ages for that moment. And now that it had finally come, now that he had his king again, he had no intention of wasting it.

Neither let the other move more than a few paces away, lips scarcely leaving one another’s body as they stumbled their way up to his bedroom. With the liquor burning its way through their veins alongside the ancient passion, they probably deserved credit for even thinking to make it up the two flights of stairs, even if they’d left a damning trail of clothes in their wake. By time he shoved Sebastian onto his bed, quick to straddle the other’s waist, John was down to his trousers, which was still more than what his king had on, his trousers lying across the threshold of John’s door.

But clothes lost mattered little with Sebastian panting between his legs, a devious smirk on his lips as he stared up at John as nothing else mattered. Running his hand along Sebastian’s chest, the odd contrast of hair muscle covered by soft hair enough to make John smile fondly to himself. Letting his hand drift further down, he paused when his fingers brushed along a raised piece of skin.

Furrowing his brows as he traced along it, John moved from on top of him, more focused on the growing scar. It had to be something Sebastian was used to as he sat up easily enough, not the least bit bothered by John’s sudden distraction from his original intent. Not when one line was joined by more that seemed to mar his left side, starting just beyond that at his back. Giving him a worried look, John was surprised to see his former king look almost ashamed.

“Do I even want to know what did this?” He asked quietly, fingers still along the largest part of the scar.

Licking his lips, Sebastian shrugged helplessly. “Tigers have been known to seek revenge against those that slight them. Of course, they also don’t like being cornered any more than anything else.”

“I thought the bit about chasing a man eating tiger down into the sewers was fake. You said—“

“You said it was a nice bit of embellishment. I simply didn’t argue it.”

Breaking Sebastian’s gaze to look at the twisted scar tissue under his fingers, John didn’t know what to make of it. He might’ve kept staring had Sebastian not twisted around, pulling him into his arms. Pressing a kiss to the scar on John’s own shoulder, Sebastian stared at him worriedly.

“We don’t have to do anything if it bothers you,” he said softly.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, John ran his hand through Sebastian’s hair, trying not to grimace at the shortness of it. “Do you just try to piss off everything?”

“I have to occupy my life somehow until I meet you,” Sebastian teased as he laid John back on the bed.

And if there was anything that John might’ve cared to say, it quickly faded from his mind as Sebastian kissed him as a silent apology for something John knew he had no right to be angry about, hands making quick works of their remaining clothes as he did. Still, there was little stopping the way his fingers caressed the scar at his side. It was only when Sebastian moved out of his reach did he finally force his hand to find interest elsewhere as the man set about relearning his body.

Not that there was all that much to relearn, judging by how Sebastian seemed to break him down as easily and quickly as a rifle. Hands caressing at the inside of his thighs, Sebastian licked and sucked his way down John’s chest, pausing only to leave future marks at John’s collarbone or stinging little bite marks. Gripping at the man’s shoulder, John kept his eyes focused on those devious blue eyes as Sebastian paused at his navel, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Whether he simply had all the same weakness he had before or Sebastian was just that skilled, he didn’t care. Not with Sebastian the practically tongue fucking the little indent. Of course, there was at least one other place he would’ve preferred that mouth, something he attempted to make known in the way he rolled his hips beneath him. Yet, rather than take the hint, Sebastian moved away to look for something on the floor only to return with a small container of lube.

“You a sex wizard or something?” John questioned wryly.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian settled back between his legs. “Trouser pocket.”

Mouth open to make some smart arsed response, John found himself moaning instead as Sebastian swallowed down his cock without hesitation. There was no real finesse in the way Sebastian sucked at him, just a wet, hot suction that John couldn’t find fault with it his life depended on it. Perfectly efficient in wringing out soft noises from him until he felt a slick finger pressing at his entrance.

The pressure of it pushing in wasn’t the most pleasant thing he had ever felt in his life, but it wasn’t entirely foreign either. Certainly Sebastian wasn’t the first to explore him in such a way, easing a second finger in to stretch the tight ring of muscles for what was yet to come. If anything, it was nothing if not a perfunctory action until Sebastian dragged his fingers over that nub inside him. Hips jerking of their own accord, John let out a moan as Sebastian continued to brush against the bundle of nervous, the feeling of him chuckling around his cock as he did only helping to drive him mad faster.

Still, even as he continued to rock back against those fingers, John managed to find it in him to plead for more. More of what, he couldn’t rightfully say, but the fact that he didn’t have to was no small relief. Sebastian understood what he needed and was entirely unbothered by the broken noise John makes when he removed his fingers, hips instinctively following the retreating digits.

And even if it felt like an eternity to him, waiting for the larger man to put on a condom and slick himself up, Sebastian wasted little time in giving him what he needed. Settled between John’s legs again, he carefully thrust into the blonde. Shallow pushes in followed by a slow retreat until only the head remained inside him, going deeper with each roll of his hips until he was fully seated inside him.

The stretch and burn of being filled wasn’t a feeling that he was overly familiar with, but the heavy weight of Sebastian on top of him, panting against his neck made up for any discomfort his adjusting body felt. Tilting his head to the side, he captured Sebastian’s mouth, fingers tangled in his hair as he began to move experimentally; the feeling of being so full and still nearly driving him mad.

But if there was any danger of that, it disappeared once Sebastian caught on to what was happening. Large hands gripping at his hips, Sebastian started to slowly move, his grip growing tighter as his pace quickened. It was almost as though he was marking his claim with lingering marks and hard thrusts that John was only dimly aware of asking for. The occasional well-angled thrust only making John come undone all the faster as he clutched at anything in reach, teeth digging into his lip as he tried to stay silent against the onslaught.

He felt like a shattered mess when Sebastian finally took hold of his cock, stroking him from tip to root with a slowness that shouldn’t have been possible at such a time.  Draping an arm over his eyes, he simply let out a whimper as he let his body sort out whether to thrust into the warm hand or rock back against Sebastian’s hips. And as the tension growing tension in his body grew into a desperate need for release, it wasn’t long before he was pleading for Sebastian to give him just that.

And then that hand was moving faster, fist clenched a bit tighter around him. It was all that was necessary to send John tumbling over the edge of his climax, crying out the man’s name as he dug his nails into sweat slick skin. Sebastian didn’t take long to follow suit, hips moving erratically until he finally came with a soft grunt.  Limbs still tangled together, they fought to catch their breaths, the heavy weight of Sebastian on top of him making the task a bit harder for John.

Lying right where he was when Sebastian finally got up, John scarcely moved as he felt a shift in the bed. Instead, he only listened to Sebastian move about his room, giving a rather undignified noise when something soft began to clean up the mess on his stomach. Yet when Sebastian finally did lie back down, John managed to find it in him to curl himself against the other man, a tired smile on his face as he looked up at him.

He probably should’ve said something, as the moment seemed to call for such a thing, but he certainly couldn’t think of anything worthwhile. It was easier to take Sebastian’s slow smile as a sign that everything was understood before curling up against the man and closing his eyes.

If nothing else,  he at least felt mildly at ease in doing that as he was fairly certain that his dreams couldn’t trouble him for the night. Nothing his mind could throw at him could be that bad when, for the first time in longer than he’d ever knew, he had the comfort of king again.


	9. Chapter 9

With the sunlight pouring into his bedroom window, casting everything in its warm glow, and his blanket resting low on his hips, tangled up around his legs, John was certain that he would never go out drinking with a bunch of dwarves ever again in any of his lives, since he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made such a declaration before.

Of course, even if he hadn’t, the intense throbbing that seemed to rest right behind his eyes like some kind of terrible monster was enough to make him believe he should have. How a casual night out could proceed such an awful, painful morning was beyond him. All he knew was that everything seemed to ache and he mouth tasted as though something had died in it. He rather felt like he would’ve been better off dead than have to dredge up some will to start his day. But, rolling over to and burying his face against the cool side of his bed, he laid there for a few more moment before deciding to give up on his effort to sleep.

Throwing on his dressing gown, he ran his hands over his face, trying to will himself to be a bit more conscious before facing down the stairs. He was certain that with how sore he already felt, stumbling down the stairs wasn’t going to help him feel any better. And after nearly tripping over his own discarded trousers, he knew he could trust himself until he was at least semi-conscious.

Still, a deep breath, he cautiously made his way down the stairs, hands resting heavily on the wall and the handrail to keep him steady as he muttered about dwarves and their drinking. Not that he got very far into his lament before the smell of eggs hit him like a punch to the gut. Just his luck that Mrs Hudson would choose that morning to seek out his company. Not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with the woman, but even the idea of food made him feel slightly nauseous. So, making his way to the kitchen, he opened his mouth to complain to her, only to shut it just as quickly.

“Morning,” Sebastian said in a rather chipper tone.

Looking toward the stairs, John furrowed his brows as he slowly counted to ten. Perhaps he was still asleep in his bed and this was just a continuance of his dream from last night. Certainly that was the most logical explanation of why the man would be shirtless, trousers slung low on his hips as he cooked. Hell, John was almost praying that it was just another dream so that way he could at least blame it on something. Yet when he looked back toward the kitchen, Sebastian was still there, chewing on a piece of toast as he continued cooking. 

Tightening the belt of his dressing gown with a sense of determination, he walked up to the other man since he had been more than a bit ready to write off the other night as just a drunken mistake. “What are you doing here?”

“Making eggs,” he said as he held up the pan slightly, in case John had somehow missed the obvious sight of him cooking. “There’s also coffee on, considering you hate my tea.”

And while the idea of coffee was about as tempting as telling Sebastian that his tea wasn’t that bad, figuring out just why the other man was half dressed in his kitchen still seemed to be a more pressing subject. So, crossing his arms over his chest, he tried again, asking, “Why are you cooking and why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Taking a deep breath, Sebastian let out a heavy sigh. “I was gathering my things when I ran into your landlady. Lovely woman, gave me a proper talking to and then offered to iron my shirt since it was a bit wrinkled. I couldn’t let her do that without making it up to her, so here I am, in your kitchen, making eggs.”

“No wonder you got kicked out of the army. You can’t even sneak out of a flat without getting caught by a little old lady. I’d hate to see what you’d do if caught by the enemy.”

“In all fairness, they just wanted me dead. They didn’t scold me like a wayward child,” he said, sounding mildly ashamed about it.

Smirking, John could easily envision it and certainly didn’t pity him. After all, while Sebastian may have been Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, he was certainly no match for Mrs Hudson. Whether king or the British Government, the woman had a way of making even the most self-important people feel a bit like naughty schoolboys when she sought out to. It was why he was rather pleased to find that he wasn’t the one who had run into her first.

“Shouldn’t have left your clothes on the stairs,” he chastised teasing as he made to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“I rather think there were mitigating circumstances for that,” Sebastian said as he turned off the stove.

Grabbing himself a cup, John tried to ignore as Sebastian moved to lean back against the counter next to him. He was resolutely focused on pouring himself a cup of coffee, tasting it before deeming it good enough. Of course, ignoring the rather large man at his side couldn’t work forever, so he told him, “You need to learn to take responsibility. If I told you hide in a barrel to escape some elves, would you do that too?”

Narrowing his eyes, John was almost certain that Sebastian was going to say something snide in return. Yet, all he did was nod in agreement as he looked away from John, oddly at ease. It wasn’t until the obnoxious clang of an empty pan falling to ground filled the room and John’s still aching head did he realize what a mistake he had made in trusting the other man.

Arching a brow at the obvious show of pain on John’s face, Sebastian calmly asked, “Sorry. Was that too loud?”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” John questioned as he held his head with his free hand.

“Yes.”

Glaring at him, John waited until his head had calmed before asking him, somewhat bitterly, “So, why were you running out so early? Regret taking advantage of a drunk the night before?”

“I don’t know,” he said, giving a small shrug. “Do you regret getting taken advantage of by a slightly more sober drunk?”

“Well, yeah,” John said without bothering to even think through his answer. “But that could just be from waking up alone thinking I dreamt it all up.”

Not that he even wanted to Sebastian to be there in the first place. It was just the instinctual response to waking up alone in the harsh light of day that had left him feeling upset. The memories of another person entirely that caused him to feel hurt and terrified. Picking up his cup again, sipping at it to give himself something to do, he was certain that it was nothing more than a thoughtless morning urge and that even the relief he felt upon finding Sebastian in his kitchen was just the product of memories that weren’t really his.

Ducking his head, Sebastian rubbed at the side of his nose as he smiled to himself. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that or not.”

“Neither. Or...” Exhaling softly, he couldn’t even say what it was he meant. He wasn’t entirely certain given that he always seemed to have someone else’s memories of someone Sebastian wasn’t anymore lingering about his head. Biting at his lip, he shrugged helplessly. “What happened last night, happened. It didn’t mean anything and I’m not all that upset I woke up alone. Hell, I wasn’t even expecting for you to still be here.”

“And yet I am and I made you breakfast.”

“No,” John corrected. Finishing off his coffee, he put down the cup before pointing a finger at Sebastian accusingly. “You made breakfast for my landlady because she made you feel guilty.”

“True enough, but I am still here.”

“Because you got caught by Mrs Hudson this morning.”

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian pressed John back against the counter. Trapping him by placing his arms on either side of John on the counter, Sebastian let out a heavy sigh before asking, point blank, “Do you want anything to come from this, John?”

“No,” he spat out. Wincing at his own words, he waved his hand as he furrowed his brows. “I mean…You recently lost someone important to you and I’m sure you’re still a bit hurt by over that and… I certainly don’t have much to offer.”

“You mean you’re still upset over Sherlock?”

Eyes narrowing, John nearly sputtered as he shook his head, struggling as he tried to find the will to speak. “That’s not what I said.”

It wasn’t even close to what he said or meant since he wasn’t the one who had lost a boyfriend. He wasn’t the one who was so willing to moving to someone he barely even knew. How Sebastian could even think to imply that somehow it was about him was beyond John. Although, from the way he stared at him in disbelief, it was clear that the former colonel didn’t agree.

“It’s what you meant though.” Moving his hands from the counter to rest on John’s waist, he didn’t let the way John tensed at the touch stop him. Instead he only moved closer, a genuine look on his face as he told him, “You can’t blame what I may or may not feel for you on someone I lost and then act like you’re not in exactly the same boat. For Christ sake, I know what you look like when you get off; I feel that should earn me a bit of honesty.”

“Rather ironic statement coming from you,” John pointed out snidely

It had nothing to do with the fact that the larger man was beginning to make him feel claustrophobic. Nor did it have to do with the fact that Sebastian seemed to understand his feelings, even if he completely disregarded them every chance he got. No, if John felt his temper slipping from him it was only because Sebastian Moran was an entirely annoying man and nothing else.

Looking mildly offended by such a claim, Sebastian didn’t budge in the slightest. He seemed completely at ease standing well within John’s personal space. “I’ve been nothing if not honest with you the entire time.”

“Except for the parts that Mycroft told me,” he reminded him with a pointed look.

“Yeah, well, Mycroft’s a tosser, if you haven’t noticed.”

 “Oh, I’ve noticed. Hard not to with him.” If there was one thing John had believed rather from their first meeting was that Mycroft Holmes was a tosser. Getting to know him over time only served to prove such a belief right in his mind, although that didn’t help him in regards to Sebastian.  Brows knitting together, he gave a small shake of his head as he told him, “But he told me more than you did. Told me everything except for how you two happen to know each other, which is something I feel I’ll never know.”

Because, aside from the general knowledge that they had met, John was still clueless about such a fact. Even with the information he had, there was never context for it. After all, John felt he could say he had met a number of people in his life, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was a good thing. And with their generally polite casual mentions of each other, John couldn’t even tell if Mycroft and Sebastian’s knowledge of each other was good or bad.

“We keep an overlapping circle of friends,” he explained. A bland explanation for something he clearly didn’t find much interest in.

“I didn’t think Mycroft had friends,” he stated a bit cheekily. Everything about Mycroft seemed less like a man who enjoyed the company of others and more like some alien creature that only socialized when necessary.

 “He’s rather friendly with a number of people, mostly those who work for the state like Rond, Melas and that bastard, Hope,” he said, rolling his eyes angrily at the last name. “And between my father being a diplomat and my schooling, know a number of the same people. But I think we were talking about us, not him.”

“I like talking about him more. Less complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about us?” Pressing his hips to John’s, Sebastian trailed a finger along the edge of John’s dressing gown to the belt. Slowly untying it with one hand, the other resting firmly on John’s hip, he said, “If you have feelings for me, we date. If you merely want to use me for sex, well, that’s alright too.”

“And if I regret everything I said last night and I still want you gone?” John asked, voice coming out a bit breathier than he would’ve liked as Sebastian’s hand found its way into his dressing gown.

Finger sliding down his side, Sebastian tilted his head as he shrugged. Nothing but teasingly calm as he pressed butterfly kisses along John’s jaw, stubble sliding against stubble as he did. “I’ll probably want to see if I could change your mind now that you’re sober.”

“And sore,” John said as firmly as he could. Not that such a thing mattered to his body as he found himself leaning into the man’s touch. “I’m also quite sore.”

“No one’s ever too sore for a—“

“Got your shirt and… Oh. Sorry,” Mrs Hudson said as she stood in the door way of the kitchen, eyes firmly focused on anything but the two of them. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you two. I’ll just be going.”

Knocking Sebastian’s hand away with a barely bitten back noise of frustration, John set about righting his dressing gown, retying the belt as he said, “No need, Mrs Hudson. We were just discussing something that came most definitely wait. Plus I’m sure Sebastian would like to put his shirt back on.”

“Quite right,” he said, only moving away when John was decent. Walking over to her, he spared John a hungry look before managing to conceal the obvious need and disappointment under a mask of geniality as he turned his attention toward Mrs Hudson. “I’d hate to be indecent at the dining table.”

“Well, then, you’ll pleased to know I got the wrinkles out for you and it’s still a bit warm.”

“You’re a saint, Mrs Hudson.” Putting it on, he inspected it for a brief moment before smiling sweetly at her. “I wish I had a landlady half as nice as you.”

Obviously flattered by him, she gave him a small smack on the arm before wagging her finger disapprovingly at him as she said, “Yeah, well, just remember that the next time that you two decide to spend the night together to wait until you get to his room to take off your clothes. I’m not your housekeeper after all.”

It was the look she gave him that made John look away, a bit nervously. He could definitely see why Sebastian had felt the need to make amends. Shifting from foot to foot nervously, he certainly felt like a wayward child as well, an apology heavy on his tongue as he tried to will away the blush burning his cheeks.

Yet Sebastian seemed to be much quicker with his words, giving the woman an apologetic look as he told her, “Terribly sorry. It really is all my fault. I shouldn’t have seduced him the way I did.”

“Oh yeah,” John snorted, finding both his problems rather fixed by that laughable comment. Catching the rather insulted look on Sebastian’s face, he held up his hands in surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips as he said, “No, really. Terribly seductive thing he is. Like a bottle of water to a drowning man.”

 “Please, sit down,” Sebastian said as he pulled out a chair for her. “You’ve done more than enough already, Mrs Hudson.”

“Going to pull out my chair too?” John asked, unable to resist teasing him.

Of course, rather than take offense, Sebastian actually did pull out a chair for him. He even gestured for John to take his seat, a brow arched in challenge as he did. “Yes, because I’m a gentleman.”

“Oh, you really are just a terrible human being, aren’t you?” He questioned as he took his seat.

“I haven’t even served you yet,” Sebastian back with a smirk.

And true to his word, the former king set about serving both him and Mrs Hudson as though he belonged there. If he wasn’t as amused by the idea of having his king serve him breakfast as he was, John might’ve questioned just how long Sebastian had been up if he had taken the time to make himself familiar with the ins and outs of his kitchen. But with the man placing food in front of him, something that made John’s stomach lurch in dismay, he found his body’s rebellion far more concerning than how well Sebastian knew his kitchen. So he let him continue on, watching as he served Mrs Hudson before moving to sit down at the table with them.

It was just as he was about to take his own seat did the sounds of his phone going off fill the room.

“Is that the seven dwarves song from the mines?” John asked, fighting the urge to laugh.

Grimacing, Sebastian pulled out his phone and with a small growl, he said, “I have to get that.”

“So where’d you meet him?” Mrs Hudson asked in a hushed voice as soon as he was well out of earshot.

“Sebastian?” Furrowing his brows as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse, he hesitated for a long moment. “He just… He’s an old army friend, really. I uh… Served under him for a brief time. Kind of reconnected over the past month or so.”

If it seemed like a terrible excuse, Mrs Hudson didn’t take notice of it. Instead she placed a hand over his, a smile on her lips as she told him, “He seems like a nice man. About as sweet as those girls you used to bring around. I just hope he might last a bit longer.”

“I don’t know,” John said, shifting nervously as he shook his head. “He’s been through the same kind of hell I have lately.”

“Usually when dating, that’s a desirable trait, having someone who can understand your goods and bads.”

“Usually. But…”

“But nothing,” she said resolutely. Turning back to the food in front of her, she gave him a look that brooked no argument. “If you like each other, you ought to give it a go. At the very least it’ll stop you from moping about here for a bit. Not to mention he’s more than just a bit handsome.”

“Don’t say that,” John said with a small grimace. Looking off toward where Sebastian was pacing back and forth in the living room, he frowned. “He’s… Him.”

“Well, you already brought him home once and I considering those marks on your neck, I would’ve assumed that meant you liked something about him just a bit,” she pointed out.

Staring at her in surprise, John watched as she calmly went on eating her food. Brushing his finger along his neck, he frowned as he tried to imagine just how obvious the mark was. Debating whether or not he honestly wanted to ask her, John didn’t get the chance as Sebastian walked back into the room.

Grabbing his jacket from off the back of one of the chairs, he put it on without a word before pocketing his phone. Looking at them both with a small sigh, he looked rather ashamed as he said, “Right. Sorry about that but I have to go, unfortunately.”

“Wow. You were just waiting to get that shirt back,” John stated as he returned his focus back to his food, even if he still wasn’t particularly up to eating them.

“Fred called. Something came up and he needs my help.”

“What? Need bail money?”

And while Mrs Hudson looked a bit confused by such a statement, Sebastian seemed to find a bit of amusement in it as he brushed his finger along the corner of his lower lip. “Not yet. Still, it was wonderful meeting you Mrs Hudson and thank you about the shirt. It was really unnecessary.”

“Last thing the world needs is another young man looking slovenly in public,” she said, waving off it off as though it was nothing.

“All true except for the young bit, I’m afraid. And John…” Moving toward John, they stared at each other; John looking rather expectant while Sebastian seemed to be at a loss for words. “Call, don’t call. I’ll get the message either way, won’t I?”

“Don’t generally leave messages when I don’t call. Kind of how it works really,” he said, uncomfortable with the rather serious tone of the conversation.

Scoffing, Sebastian told him, “Really starting to lean toward the don’t call part.”

“Bye Sebastian,” John said, giving a small wave in case the man didn’t get the hint.

Cupping his jaw, Sebastian gave him a brief kiss before smiling smugly at the shocked look on his face. “Bye Halfling. Goodbye, Mrs Hudson”

Mrs Hudson waved and said her farewells as John simply stared at Sebastian as he made his way out. He couldn’t tell if he was surprised by the action because of how unexpected it was or the fact that a small part of him couldn’t relate it to the king he had once known. Either way, with Sebastian gone, it meant that he didn’t have to think about it. So, focusing on his food once again and even daring to take a small bite, he decided to let it go.

“You should’ve seen him out,” Mrs Hudson said as soon as Sebastian was gone once again.

“He can find a door,” John muttered before pausing. Sitting up a bit straighter, he looked back toward the stairs with a small frown. Looking back at her, he nodded in agreement with himself as he said, “Yeah, I’m sure he found the door.”

“What would it really hurt to give him a chance? Worse that could happen is that things don’t go well.”

“Yeah,” he said, pushing his food around his plate as he thought on just how bad things could go.

The idea of having the man in his life and then losing him again was a rather large deterrent in John’s opinion. Because, while Thorin’s death may have haunted his heart, having him completely turn on him over something that had seemed so trivial was something that lurked in John’s mind like a monster in the shadows.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. Two week hiatus for this fic because my writing is getting progressively worse what with this whole "life" thing happening all the time. So, I will be back after I get that in order.

The question of what it was he was meant to do in regards to Sebastian was one that weighed on John for days. He knew what he wanted, but that was the majority of his problems as well. It was mad to want a guy who he didn’t even know, but then he also felt the same way about letting the man slip out of his life. And if not for the realization that he was doing just that by not calling the other man, John might never have found himself standing outside some restaurant, still fighting with himself.

Feeling his mobile go off, John pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the text from Sebastian. Inside the man was waiting for his arrival, for him to find the courage and just make a choice. Just decide what it was that was going to happen between the two of them. Typing out a reply, John walked inside the place rather than send it, looking around a bit wearily for a familiar dark haired man.  Thankfully it didn’t take much looking on his part, his feet carrying him toward the other as soon as he was certain it was him.

It was only as he drew closer did he finally take notice of the other people at the table. And really, John wasn’t even bothered by the sight of Tom Melas, quite happily alternating between picking at his salad and talking to his company. The other man was the one that made John slow his steps as he furrowed his brows, trying for figure out why he felt like he should’ve known the man.

Yet before he could even begin to really think about it, Sebastian seemed to take notice of his presence. Gesturing for him to join them at the table, he said, “John, glad you could make it.”

“You’re having a lunch with friends,” he stated quietly as he made his way to the table anyways. “I should go.”

“No. Tom is having lunch with friends. I’m having lunch with a friend and El Rond.”

“El Rond?” He questioned, brows furrowed as he looked the brunette over. That vague sense of familiarity tickling at the back of his mind only worsening as he repeated the name in his head.

“Elliot Rond,” the man said as he rose from his seat. Smiling at him, he held out his hand and said, “We’ve met before in Mycroft’s office. Although it was rather fleeting and nothing more than you running into me, quite literally.”

“Oh. Right.” Shaking the man’s hand, John smiled somewhat nervously. The moment in Mycroft’s office didn’t seem to quell the niggling sense in his mind, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d seen the man either. So, letting the whole thing drift his mind, he said, “Yeah. You’re one of Mycroft’s… co-workers?”

“They’re a lot more than that,” Sebastian said as he leaned back in his chair. Sipping his wine, he gave Elliot an almost taunting look before looking back at John with a smirk.

“What?” He questioned, eyes widening since there was no way he could’ve understood that correctly.

“Friends,” Elliot said with an exasperated roll of his eyes. Taking his seat again, he flashed John a rather terse smile before letting out a small sigh. “Sebastian means to say Mycroft and I are friends.”

“Of course. What else would I mean when talking of a married man, such as yourself?” Sebastian asked, voice dripping with a saccharine innocence that didn’t fit him in the slightest.

“Is Mycroft going to be here as well?” John questioned, looking between the three men.

Not that he wanted to see the elder Holmes, but given that he had been expecting to have just a small, private conversation with Sebastian, having Mycroft around would simply be the icing on the cake that was another obvious failure in dealing with Sebastian Moran.

Letting out a small sigh, Elliot shook his head. “No. He’s busy with the Foreign Office.”

“You mean suffering through a meeting with Terence Hope and his pet?” Sebastian sneered, eyes narrowing as his lips nearly slipped into a familiar snarl.

And while John was a bit confused by the entire situation, everyone else seemed to understand whatever was going on. Of course, that wasn’t to say the other two men cared as Tom gave a small grunt as he continued to pick at his salad while Elliot merely levelled the former soldier with bored glare.

Still, the tension between Elliot and Sebastian was much more than what John had bargained for, so clearing his throat to get their attention, he forced as small smile as he told them, “Well, I’m just going to let you lot get back to your lunch. See you a different time, Tom. And it was nice meeting you, Elliot.”

Putting down his empty drink, Sebastian’s ire vanished as he turned his attention toward the man, replaced with his usual tired annoyance. “John, you wanted to talk to me. I’m here, you’re here, so talk.”

“I wanted to talk in private about private matters.” Gesturing to the other two people at the table, John muttered, “This isn’t private.”

“Should Tom and I go?” Elliot questioned, finally catching Tom’s attention.

“You two sit there,” Sebastian demanded. Folding his arms over his chest, he stared at John expectantly. “Will just speak? We’re all adults.”

And perhaps it was the overly confident way that Sebastian was practically ordering him about and patronizing him in the same breath, but John couldn’t help himself. Before he could even think through his actions he found himself saying in a rather relaxed tone, “I just wanted to talk about that night we got drunk and had sex together.”

“Was it that night we went to the bar?” Tom asked, suddenly interested in their conversation and quite happily so. Chuckling to himself, he pointed at Sebastian with his fork with a smirk. “Oh the guys will be pleased to know that. I know a number of them had bets on when that would happen.”

Which wasn’t exactly surprising to John, though he quietly hoped that the betting habits of the company might have changed, at least where he was concerned. It was part of the reason he hadn’t wanted to mention such a thing to anyone except for Sebastian before the man had to go and be a general pain in the arse again.

“Sebastian,” Elliot started, voice clipped as he spoke, “I believe that Mr Watson was correct about this being a personal matter, since I’d rather not know about your drunken exploits.”

Glancing between the man at his side and John, Sebastian seemed to find it in him to agree. Planting his hands on the table, he forced himself up from his seat with an angry grunt before staring down John as though he had been the one acting like a grouchy dog guarding its territory.

“Follow me.”

Looking between the two men sitting at the table and Sebastian, who wasted little time in making his way toward the door, John smiled a bit nervously at both men before following after Sebastian outside. All he came around for was to inform the man of a decision he still hadn’t actually decided on, not get involved in whatever age old grudge he seemed to hold against Mycroft and Tom’s friend. And yet, once they came to a stop right outside the doors of the restaurant, Sebastian looking at him expectantly, John couldn’t help himself.

Hands held behind his back as he did his best not stand completely at rest, he asked, “So, you dine with members of the government often?”

“Tom is merely an interpreter and I’m not sure what it is Rond does,” Sebastian explained with a small shrug. “Just seem to know him through Mycroft and Tom.”

“Do you know what Mycroft does, then?” He asked, still unsure of how much knowledge about things Sebastian actually had.

“A bit of everything and nothing all at once.”

It was the exact kind of answer that John might’ve expected from the man, simply a blasé little quip. But the entire topic brought his mind to what Sherlock had told him about what Mycroft did, something that brought a bitter smile to John’s lips as he ducked his head. Digging his nails into the palm of his hand, John was starting to think that he had made a mistake, an apology forming in his head for just about everything. It was the small kick to his boot that made him stop, eyes snapping forward to catch the oddly shy smile Sebastian offered up.

“While I don’t mind being tested on my knowledge of Mycroft Holmes, I was rather hoping you might have come to a decision on us,” he said as he looked toward the street, as though that might hide his obvious interest in what John came around for.

Furrowing his brows, John nodded slowly. “I’ve come to about every decision that I could possibly make and I still don’t know what I want because I shouldn’t want anything.”

“Why’s that?”

Faltering,  John stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t tell if the man meant it as an honest question or not, but he was more than willing to answer, his words coming out as though it should’ve been obvious. “Because I don’t know you. You’re just some weird stalker that showed up out of nowhere one day.”

“About a week after all the papers started talking about the death of Sherlock Holmes,” Sebastian offered casually as he kicked at the ground. “Got my interest, that.”

“Great,” he said sarcastically. Letting out a heavy breath, John rubbed at his eyes tiredly as he asked, “So you waited until I was in a weakened emotional state?”

“Or I was busy before then. Wasn’t busy after.” It was the kind of reasonable irrationality that he was starting to associate with the man. Although, their growing knowledge of each other went both ways since John didn’t have to do anything more than stare at him for Sebastian to wave off the comment with a small roll of his eyes as he said, “But that’s not the point. The point is, you seem very upset.”

“I am very upset.”

“And by such a simple choice. Either you want me or you don’t.”

Shaking his finger at the man, John eagerly explained the flaw in the other man’s simplistic approach to what really should’ve been an easy choice. “No. Because, you see, I do want you. I want you because you make me feel different. You’re like a piece of a puzzle I didn’t even know I was missing and you’re always haunting my dreams and I like that. I do.”

“But that’s not really me,” he said, quickly picking up on the problem, not that it seemed as though he viewed it as such. “I mean, I could say you haunt my dreams. Hell, I might’ve even called out the wrong name once upon a time or two, but it was never John. Wasn’t Bilbo either. You’ll always be Halfling to me, I suppose.”

“Someone else dated you willingly before me?” John asked, questions as to why he even wanted to involve himself with the other man running through his mind again.

“He liked how I worked my gun.”

“Yeah, can we not with the jokes? This is serious.” Not that it was fair for him to make such a claim considering his own remarks, but honestly, the last thing he wanted to think about was Sebastian’s gun. He just wanted to come to a decision that wouldn’t leave him feeling as though he made a mistake. Sighing, he gave Sebastian a helpless look. “I want to give us a shot because of someone you’re not and the person you are is someone I can’t trust.”

Nodding in agreement, Sebastian rubbed at the side of his nose with his thumb as he thought John’s predicament over. “Could you trust the man I was before?”

“I could before you tried to kill me.”

“I could try not to kill you this time if it makes you feel better,” Sebastian offered, seeming quite serious. Which, while comforting in ways John refused to give too much thought to, didn’t really help him.

“Thank you. But, you see the problem? I mean, your boyfriend died and yet here you are chasing after me when a normal person might, I don’t know, mourn their loss?”

“True. And yet here we are,” he said as he gestured around them. “I am perfectly willing to overlook a person I would’ve died for because of you. Because some other me, a long dead version me, knows that I would’ve laid my life down for you and that I loved you, or who you used to be, as much as I loved him.”

“Touching. Yet you never say his name,” John pointed out.

There was no malice to his words, merely a simple statement of fact because he knew how hard even saying the person’s name could be. How it was sometimes easier to just use pronouns or not speak of the person at all.

Licking his lips, Sebastian furrowed his brows as he seemed to fight with himself about what to say. Taking a deep breath, he offered up a sad smile as he said rather wistfully, “I always tended to call him a mad man. But he’s dead and you’re not, Halfling.”

“That’s quite the pragmatic view,” he said, not really sure how he felt about such a thing.

“Look, if you want to get to know each other, we can, but I’ve already seen you naked and we already have these insane feelings for each other. Normal relationships barely make sense and we’re so far past normal at this point,” Sebastian explained in a harsh whisper. Leaning in closer to John, he added, “You’ve pulled my own gun on me.”

“I have issues with snipers pointing things at my flat. Kind of like how I have issues with blokes who try to run out on me the night after we have sex,” he said, leaning into Sebastian in spite of himself.

“I was trying to get my clothes before anyone woke up. 

“And you still got caught doing that.”

“Yes, I did,” Sebastian said with a small laugh that made John smile. Lifting a hand between them, John was almost certain Sebastian was going to cup his cheek before it fell back to the former colonel’s side. “So what do you say? We giving this a go or are we going to pretend that we don’t have some epic, ancient connection with each other and didn’t have a really nice night of sex?”

“Exaggerating a bit there? I mean, nice?”

“Sod it.” Turning on his heel, Sebastian began to make his way back into the restaurant, saying, “Piss off. Go away. I give up.”

Grabbing the man’s arm, John did his best to look apologetic when Sebastian stopped and stared at him, obviously trying to look upset, although the playful glint to his eyes was nearly impossible to hide. Dropping his hand down to Sebastian’s, he gave a brief squeeze before letting go of him entirely. “Sorry. I do want to give us a try. Maybe actually have dinner without any interruptions or something normal?”

“I suppose. I would suggest tonight because this conversation is clearly far from over, but I have some business to take care of.”

“Have some job I don’t know about?”

Biting back a groan, Sebastian practically winced as he said, “Visiting my parents.”

“Right,” John said facetiously. “Nearly forgot that you’re forty something, jobless and apparently living off mummy and daddy. Christ, at least the last bloke I liked had a job.”

“And jumped off a building,” Sebastian added playfully.

“Because shooting yourself is the classy way to commit suicide?” John questioned.

Caught off guard by such a remark, John was certain that Sebastian was nearly ready to give up on him all over again. Yet as soon as he managed to recover from the comment, the man told him, “You know, I don’t see normal working for us so much. But dinner tomorrow might be nice. You can come around, I’ll cook dinner. Maybe breakfast in the morning.”

Eyes widening slightly, John was a bit taken aback by the subtle confidence the other man seemed to display. Looking him over, he asked, “You’re a really smug bastard, aren’t you?”

“A little bit. So is that a yes?”

“Sebastain?” Elliot called out as he made his way out of the restaurant as well, eyes more focused on his phone than the two of them. Stopping near them, he flashed John a small smile before turning his attention to Sebastian, telling him, “Sorry to interrupt, but Tom and I were wondering if you were ever coming back inside?”

“I’ll just let you get back to your meal,” John said, feeling a bit embarrassed for interrupting their lunch once again. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he added, “And as long as you cook something more appetizing than eggs in the morning, dinner tomorrow would be lovely.”

“Great. We can work out a time later.”

Nodding, John offered a rather meek wave at the two men as he said, “Bye Sebastian. Tell Tom I said goodbye. And uh… nice seeing you again, Rond.”

“Yes. You as well.”

Walking away, John tried to shake off the sense that something wasn’t quite right as he resolutely refused to look back. Never once did he see the way that Sebastian watched him with a pleased smirk until he disappeared into the crowd, nor did his catch the way Elliot seemed to glance between the two of the wearily. By time Elliot finally turned toward Sebastian, a series of questions on his tongue, John was already well away and incapable of hearing the conversation that followed his departure.

“Didn’t you just lose that… man you were dating, Sebastian.”

“Yeah, well, John and I have something special. Transcends everything,” Sebastian declared humourlessly.

Pulling out his mobile, the man tapped out a message as he nodded. “Hmm. Well, congrats, I hope everything goes well this time and that no one dies,” he said before gesturing for Sebastian to lead the way back into the restaurant.

Narrowing his eyes, Sebastian forced a brief smile before going back inside, muttering about the company that Tom seemed keep.


End file.
